


Numbers And Figures

by PlaneJane



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-06
Updated: 2012-03-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 14:12:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/357733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaneJane/pseuds/PlaneJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a  prompt, <i>Arthur/Merlin, Modern AU, Uther is violent at home and Arthur has to hide the bruises in school. New pupil Merlin sees through his popular bullshit at once and discovers the truth.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Numbers And Figures

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story _two years ago_ and posted it at [livejournal](http://planejane.livejournal.com/54875.html). Apparently, people are still reading it, which thrills me in ways I can't even begin to describe. So here it is on the archive, all on one page. Hopefully I haven't messed up adding the html when I copied it over.

Hunith straightened Merlin’s tie. 

“There,” she said, smiling warmly. “You look so handsome.”

Merlin shuffled and fussed. “I can’t believe I have to wear a stupid uniform.”

“You were lucky to get into Chichester, Merlin. Most of your friends have ended up at Horndean.” She kissed him perfunctorily and he barely waited to rub it off. “Now, go make some new friends and have a good day.” 

She gave him a five pound note for lunch, even though they could ill afford it. Hunith had insisted that buying in the canteen was a better way to meet people than taking a packed lunch. Merlin didn’t want to contradict her because he knew how anxious she was, so he stuffed the money in his blazer pocket and waved good-bye, gifting her with his signature grin. She smiled back, eyes a little wet and Merlin felt like saying _I’m not five or you’ll smudge your eyeliner_ , but he resisted.

Chichester High School was a prestigious big city secondary school known to the locals as ‘Chi High’. It had separate boys’ and girls’ schools but mixed classes for A-Levels. Merlin had only ever attended mixed schools and was relieved he wasn’t going into an all-male environment, even if it was just for Year 13. (He’d heard rumour of how rough it could be, especially for younger boys starting in Year 7.)

His old school, Bourne, had been a small village school. When house prices had soared and forced families out of the villages, enrollment at Bourne fell and the school had been closed as he finished Year 12. Thanks to straight A’s at AS, Merlin was going to be able to complete his final school year, with A2’s, at the most sought-after state school in the county. Most of his friends had ended up at Horndean, which was good but not the best. Still, his old school-mates didn’t have to wear a uniform or ride twenty-five minutes each way on the train. He knew it had been a struggle to afford the fare, his second-hand blazer and the rest of his uniform, and the mobile phone his mum insisted he needed because his school was ten miles from home. Looking on the bright side, though, it was a relief. At least his clothes would be one less thing to be teased about and there were bound to be more kids like him at such an academic school.

~*~

The Common Room buzzed with start-of-year excitement: who’d had their hair cut, who was seeing whom, did you know that girl that got pregnant, so and so passed their driving test. Everyone knew each other, of course. There was no one else from Merlin’s old school, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Maybe he could reinvent himself and get off to a good start here.

“You’re new,” said a girl with a friendly face, her hair pulled up in a high pony-tail.

“Yeah. I’ve come from Bourne, the school that got shut down. I’m Merlin.” He smiled and the bright smile that she returned him was reassurance she seemed to have warmed to him instantly.

“Gwen. I live in Bosham. Do you get the train?”

“Yeah. I get on at Emsworth. You?” Bosham was two stops closer to Chichester than Emsworth. Maybe Merlin would have someone to ride the train with, for at least part of the way.

“Used to. I’ve got a car this year. Just an old banger, but it beats Southern Rail.”

“Lucky you.” Merlin liked her at once. Her tie was tied in such a way that it was really short, almost poking out, instead of hanging down, as it skimmed over her chest (which he wasn’t looking at) and she’d turned up the collar on her blazer. It looked silly, but even with a uniform Merlin supposed people wanted to add their stamp of individuality. Gwen had also added sparkly green eyeliner and the shiniest lip gloss Merlin had ever seen. Boys, he considered, had much less leeway when it came to uniform fashion statements. He pulled at his tie, as it become apparent it was much too neatly knotted. 

Merlin quickly scanned the room. Usually, it was easy to pick out certain groups or cliques and make a decision as to who might be approachable. But it was nigh on impossible trying to pick out individuals in this sea of blue blazers, so he was glad he had Gwen to focus on rather than just hovering aimlessly, looking like a loser, before the day had even started.

Then he saw him. A blonde boy, all swagger and testosterone, made an entrance amidst much twitter and attention from boys and girls alike. He was handsome and even through his schoolboy clothes it was easy to tell he was muscular underneath. He slung his rucksack on a chair and sauntered through the Common Room as if he owned the place and while the first thing Merlin had thought about him was stunning, the second was most definitely prat.

Merlin had been enlightened as to his burgeoning bisexuality thanks to his good friend Will and one too many rum and Cokes, at Will’s Mum’s annual August Bank Holiday barbeque. They discovered Merlin fell somewhere around a 4 or 5 on the Kinsey scale, courtesy of Will’s Mum’s extensive literature collection, hidden in her bedroom in a box under the bed. (Who knew she was so adventurous? Although they didn’t dwell on that because seeing that purple vibrator with a rabbit head on it had made Will feel a bit queasy.) 

Will had left Bourne School after his GCSE’s and gone to Havant College to train to be a chef. He was quick to point out to Merlin, as they lay nursing their drinks, that even though he wanted to work in the service industry, Merlin shouldn’t get any ideas. “I’m a zero, mate,” he said, looking at the scale’s diagram. “One hundred percent heterosexual. The only cock I’m interested in seeing is my own.” He’d added through their drunken haze, “But I love you like a brother. Just no funny business, all right?” Then he’d kissed Merlin on the mouth, which was actually quite disgusting, and that was the end of that.

So, Merlin had no problem fancying boys, but he had no clue how to work out if any of them fancied him.

The blond was leaning against a table smiling and chatting. His eyes were blue: cool, icy blue. When he laughed he threw his head back, his whole body shook and the deep, mellow sound reverberated through the entire room. A small crowd gathered around him. 

There was always someone like him, at every school, and boys like him always had their victims. Merlin knew that only too well.

“Who’s that?” Merlin muttered to Gwen, trying to do it inconspicuously.

“Oh, he’s caught your eye already? That, Merlin, is Arthur Pendragon.” 

“Rich, spoilt and arrogant … typical alpha male?”

“The one and only,” she said dryly, but she let a coy smile slip. It seemed no one was immune to his charms.

Merlin stole another glance, only this time Arthur was looking right at him. Merlin had no time to think before offering him a smile, which wasn’t returned.

Then the bell rang.

“Who’s tutor group are you in?” she asked.

“Mr. Ganty.”

“Oh, me too. Come on, we can walk over there together.”

~*~

It turned out Gwen was doing A2 Biology and Chemistry, the same as Merlin. Her other subject was English, Merlin’s was Maths. The room continued to hum with chatter as timetables, teacher allocations and other sheets of information were passed out. Everyone was comparing study periods, room numbers and still talking about their summer. Gwen was talking to a willowy girl called Viv, but she looked over at him occasionally and smiled. At least he’d found one friendly person amongst the sea of cliques, which already seemed to have no room for a newcomer.

After a long and dreary assembly in the Common Room where the Head of Sixth Form driveled on about UCAS online applications, expectations, not parking in the staff car park and reams of activities not considered to be sensible use of study periods, the rabble was released for second period.

The Biology labs were in the girls’ school, separate from the main school building, in a block of four across a small courtyard. As Merlin and Gwen arrived, he recognised several other people from the morning ambling their way towards the same room as them. A couple of what looked like Year 7 classes were waiting outside: sixty or so eleven year old girls in too-big blazers and shiny, new black shoes. They pointed, giggled and squealed as Merlin and Gwen went by.

“What’s the matter with them?” Merlin said nervously.

“Boys. Big boys. They don’t get to see many here. Expect extreme harassment. Did you bring a packed lunch? The canteen’s a nightmare.”

“Erm … no.” 

“That’s all right. I’ve got my car. We can go out and get chips at lunch, if you like. I said I’d meet my friend Viv in the car park. She’s got music third period.”

“Great. Thanks.”

The lab was new, much newer than anything at Merlin’s old school. The benches could be moved around and the walls were brightly decorated with posters of food webs, body organs, cross-sections of various cells and a display of paper plates with magazine pictures of food stuck to them. There were rows and rows of brand new text books all lined up along the bench by the wall and the room smelt of fresh paint.

They sat down and Merlin scanned the room, looking at his classmates. There were thirteen boys and girls of varying shades, shapes and sizes in the group, including Arthur. He was sat at the back, leaning back on his stool, chewing on a tiny of piece of paper. He’d taken the middle out of his biro and was in the process of inserting the soggy lump into the empty plastic tube when their teacher came in.

“Hello, everyone. No need to stand up.” She had waist-length hair tied back in a pony-tail, wore glasses rimmed with a bright pink frame and her lab coat covered a long flowing, floral skirt. Despite her soft appearance it was immediately apparent this teacher meant business. The whole class sat to attention while she shuffled momentarily with her folder then looked around the room until her eyes settled on Merlin. “Everyone, we have a newcomer … Merlin … Merlin Emrys. Please make him feel welcome.”

Merlin shyly raised his hand and smiled. Everyone turned to look at him, but most of the faces were friendly and nodded or smiled in his direction, while he tried to do the same to everyone in return. He heard someone make a snide remark behind him, but he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“We’re glad to have you join us. I’m Mrs. Bloom.”

“Ooh, did you get married over the summer, Miss?” called out a small girl with a wild mop of brown hair and braces. 

“Yes, Katrina.” 

They all continued to exchange banal pleasantries while Gwen exaggerated a mock yawn. Merlin, however, had honed in on the noises behind him. He wanted to turn around to see if Arthur had already launched the spit ball he'd been working on before Merlin sat down. He hadn’t noticed it go yet and he didn’t want to assume the worst: that he was the intended victim. Still, he couldn’t help but half-expect it as part of the privilege of his ‘new boy’ status.

So Merlin waited and listened, waited some more and then … then he turned around. Arthur was smugly grinning in his direction and as their eyes met, just for the briefest second, Arthur raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. At that moment, Merlin knew the gauntlet had been thrown and by turning around he had as much as picked it up. His heart sank with disappointment as he turned back to face the front and wait for the onslaught.

Mrs. Bloom continued, “Now down to business. Mr. Clarke is going to do Unit 4 this year and I’m doing Unit 5. You’ve got the course content on your handouts. We’ll be sharing the practical assessments and assignments.”

She droned on for a few more minutes about coursework, books, homework deadlines and the usual. Gwen was busily writing notes, as was most everyone else. But from behind, Merlin could feel the burn of Arthur Pendragon’s stare and he could hear his stool scrape. There were snorts of laughter from him and the boy next to him, who was called Perry. Then Merlin felt something wet hit him on the back of the neck. He knew exactly what it was. He reached up and removed the soggy blob of spit and paper, and turned round to see Arthur and Perry laughing at him.

Merlin glared. Arthur just arrogantly waved the empty biro tube around in an act of deliberate provocation. 

Merlin mouthed back at him, “Fuck off, prat.”

“Oooh,” Arthur sing-songed. Then he whispered loud enough that only those around him might hear, “The new boy has balls.”

Mrs. Bloom then piped up, “Mr. Pendragon. Whilst you might think it’s my privilege to be graced with your company I will remind all of you that you are here by invitation. I will not have tax payer’s money wasted on students who do not pull their weight. Likewise, nor will I have any other student’s opportunity jeopardised by timewasters. I am well within my rights to ask you to leave if you cannot behave in a manner conducive to learning. Am I clear everyone?”

There were groans of consensus then they set about dealing with more administrative paraphernalia as the clock dragged its way round to break-time.

~*~

The train home was filled with schoolchildren. Most of them got off one or two stops after Chichester, leaving Merlin sat alone, legs stretched out, watching the verdant countryside chug by. It dawned on him, as the afternoon sun disappeared behind a heavy grey cloud that this last year of school might possibly be even worse than if he had been able to stay at Bourne. 

Merlin tried to concentrate on the good parts of the day.

He liked Gwen and a few of the others in Biology had been friendly, not just polite, even if they weren’t necessarily his type. He’d meet the remainder of the Chemistry group tomorrow: the ones who hadn’t intersected with the kids he’d met already today. Arthur was in Biology and Maths but he hadn’t decided yet whether this was going to be a good or bad thing, although it was at the forefront of his mind. Chemistry was going to be Merlin’s only time off from him … if that was remotely the right way to think about it. 

The train slowed to a stop at Nutbourne. Merlin shifted on his seat, pressing his thigh against the side of the carriage, in such a way that he felt the press of something in his blazer pocket. He’d forgotten all about that packet of Polo mints! He’d bought them at lunchtime when he’d gone into the city with Gwen and Viv. The two of them were funny and about the most likeable girls Merlin had ever known: Gwen was sweet and genuine, but didn’t take any shit from anyone: Viv was doing Music, Drama and English, and was a total performer. They’d eaten fish and chips for lunch in the city center while Viv loudly fought off the seagulls with her umbrella, then they’d all walked back to Gwen’s car arm-in-arm like he’d known them forever. A smile crept across his face as he prised a Polo out from the top of the packet with his thumb and popped it in his mouth.

Then he thought about Arthur again, and wondered why he had been such an arsehole to him. Gwen said he was alright most of the time if you stood your ground and didn’t let him belittle you (easy to say if you were a pretty girl with stacks of self-confidence). She said, with a mocking laugh, he was just showing off because it was the start of term and he had to remind everyone of how important and superior he was (Gwen said he got four A’s and a B at AS, just to add insult to injury). It had been no comfort to also learn that he was most intimidating in English, where opinions mattered and anyone who disagreed with him without qualification would find out just how caustic Arthur’s tongue could be. 

Merlin knew there didn’t have to be a reason for Arthur to have it in for him. The four extra spit balls and the book to the back of his head in Maths were testament to that. Then Merlin smiled to himself and didn’t feel too bad … because maybe he shouldn’t have called him Arfur brain in front of all his mates in the Common Room at break-time. But that was how he acted, like he had half a brain, or at least was only using half of it. 

It was amazing how much information Merlin had gleaned about him in the space of a day. Gwen was right: Arthur had grabbed his attention. 

~*~

The first few weeks went by in a blur of assignments, test dates and university applications. Merlin and Gwen sat together in Biology and Chemistry, getting to know each other faster and more thoroughly than their Year 13 course content. Despite being driven and organised, Gwen struggled in Chemistry with the more abstract concepts, so to help her, Merlin had taken to writing short explanatory notes and diagrams in the margin of her notebook. Merlin’s erratic scrawl drove Gwen to distraction, even on his own notes: to the extent she began writing out section headings and underlining them for him in cloying shades of pink and purple. However, even he had drawn the line at the sparkly gel pens. 

There were also a couple of other kids Merlin liked from Chemistry: an emo kid called Ben and his girlfriend Amanda, who supposedly had pierced everything. This was according to Viv, who said she’d seen it all at a party over the summer. Merlin was more than happy to take her word for it. They were both vegetarians and refused to eat anything from the school canteen, so Merlin usually ate his packed lunch with them in the Common Room, whilst trying not to watch Amanda’s tongue stud and imagine how it might feel running over certain parts of one’s anatomy. He didn’t lust after Amanda (or Ben), but did think Ben might be a very lucky young bloke indeed.

In Maths, Merlin sat alone at the back of the classroom, spending half the time day-dreaming or watching his class-mates with their heads down, sweating over their calculus. He had the perfect view of Arthur’s perfect blonde head and his perfectly square jaw and equally square shoulders, two rows ahead, two seats along, sat on his own, without his entourage of cronies. That, right there, was incentive enough to finish the work quickly.

Merlin had an innate giftedness for mathematics, particularly pure. While the others pondered puzzled over conical sections and deriving formulae, Merlin saw the numbers and letters dancing in front of his eyes until the solution to the problem just presented itself. He skipped steps when he wrote out his working because he didn’t find them necessary; he just knew the answers. But Merlin also knew (had learned early) it wasn’t like that for everyone else, and if you finished the work in half the time and still never made a mistake, it was best to keep quiet about it if you wanted to avoid negative attention. 

Merlin’s anonymity didn’t last. The Pure Maths teacher, Mrs. Webb, who was barely five feet tall and had to use a step-stool to reach the top of the whiteboard, quickly discovered Merlin’s natural talent. After all, there’s only so long you can sit around doing nothing before being noticed, and the time Merlin dozed off after finishing a one hour test in fifteen minutes, without error, may have given her a clue. 

Mrs. Webb took great delight in getting Merlin to write solutions to problems on the board for her. Merlin had been reluctant to do it at first, but with some coaxing from a few of his classmates he soon overcame his self-consciousness and inside a week he was stood at the front, board marker in hand, hamming it up or deliberately making a mistake to see if Mrs. Webb (or one of the other pupils) would spot it. He soon realised that this was the best thing he could have done for himself. His enthusiastic approach earned Merlin some quick friendships and some popularity for easing the boredom and difficulty of the subject material, and he happily began to find that there was a fundamental difference at this new school in the overall motivation and attitude of the bulk of the students. Even Arthur could be spotted being attentive, or laughing along with the others, while Merlin scribbled furiously or tried not to trip over Mrs. Webb’s giant handbag, which always seemed to be left at the perfect place to interrupt Merlin’s passage from his seat to the front of the classroom. Apart from that, Arthur had shown no interest in Merlin whatsoever after the first day, which had turned out to be something of a let-down, even though Merlin didn’t want to be covered in spit balls or teased about his clumsiness or his big, sticking-out ears. There was something more disappointing, somehow, in being non-existent.

Still, things took something of a turn one day, after the Thursday third period Applied Maths lesson with Mr. Khebbal. 

During a typical lunchtime, Arthur, Perry and a few boys and girls that Merlin didn’t know, but he thought Viv was friendly with, ate their lunch or just sat talking and laughing at what was commonly known as the ‘top table’ (no explanation needed). They were noisy and raucous, as if they were all trying to advertise, loud and clear to the rest of the room, look what a great time we’re having because we’re the beautiful people. Sometimes Merlin heard mention of a party on someone’s boat moored down at Itchenor or what car someone was getting for their birthday but never anything that concerned him. He’d known from the get-go that he wouldn’t be in that crowd and he didn’t care for their pretentiousness anyhow. 

Today though, most of them were at some drama production meeting leaving Perry and Arthur’s crowd depleted. Arthur was animatedly telling Perry how he had just been doing projectile motion in Applied Maths and proceeded to give him a practical demonstration by screwing up balls of paper and launching them at people’s heads. 

Merlin was in the middle of his lunch and tried to ignore them, but Arthur was so ridiculously attractive, eyes full of mischief, with his blazer off and his shirt-sleeves rolled up and he bloody-well knew it; Merlin couldn’t resist, couldn’t help but stare. Much to Arthur and Perry’s amusement, Arthur’s projectiles managed to hit just about everyone who wasn’t on his ‘friends list’ and the situation was made worse when Perry began using his ruler as a bat, giving the paper balls more speed and distance. There was a lot of muttering under breath as most students tried to ignore the barrage, although a few people did throw them back, maybe pathetically hoping their complicity would curry favour, much to the delight of Arthur who was parading around like he was bowling for a test match. Merlin tried to get back to his cheese and pickle sandwich and the homework he’d been working through, but it was hopeless and more hopeless still when Arthur caught him out. 

“Hey, Emrys, maths wizard, how far will this go if I launch it at a forty five degree angle?” he asked as he held up the makeshift ball.

Merlin instantly replied, “I don’t know. For a start I can’t take the air resistance into account, I don’t know its starting velocity or its mass and it depends what height you throw it from and …”

Arthur doubled over laughing. Oh, it was a joke. Merlin felt his chest tighten and the flush spread upwards. He tried rolling his eyes and shaking his head as if he didn’t care and wasn’t completely embarrassed, then he looked back down at the problems on his page. Only Arthur, it seemed, was just getting started.

“Alright, say you did know the velocity. Say it was ten meters per second.” He looked upwards then added, presumably recalling their previous lesson, “Assume no air resistance and that it’s launched from the floor, then how far?”

“Okay, just a minute …” Merlin banged some numbers into his calculator, thought for a moment then worked the rest of the answer out in his head. “Ten point two meters.”

Arthur tilted his head and narrowed his eyes skeptically. “You didn’t write anything down.”

“And yet, I’m right.” Merlin heaved a relieved sigh then smiled triumphantly as he realised that this time, for once, he had the upper hand. With a sharp thrill that broke out as a wider grin he added, “Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I just made that number up.” He could see a few people had stopped their conversations to watch, to listen and Merlin felt like he was taking off, like the paper ball, on the up and up.

“Who cares, anyway?” Arthur shrugged and turned away.

Arthur’s dismissal was a challenge and this time Merlin knew exactly how to meet it head on. He spoke out loud and clear, so that anyone who was listening could hear him. “Check if you like. If I’m wrong I’ll do all your Applied homework for you tonight.”

He spun back around and sneered, “Oh but Merlin, wouldn’t that be cheating?”

“What do you care? I thought all this was easy for you.”

Now everyone was looking. Perry piped up, “Forget it, Arthur.”

“Shut up, Perry.” Arthur strode over to his bag and wrestled out his notebook and calculator and sat down on the next table, leaving Perry stood in the middle of the room surrounded by the discarded paper. 

Merlin got back on with his sandwich and his problems, keeping half a watchful eye on Arthur, who was bent over his book with his head in his hand. It was almost ten minutes before Arthur stood up and offhandedly remarked, “You were right. Looks like I’ll be doing my own homework.”

Merlin took a chance and shot back, “Let me know if you need any help,” in the same mocking tone Arthur used on him and all his victims when he was teasing or just generally being an annoying git. He was somewhat surprised at the pointed look Arthur gave him as he bundled his belongings into his rucksack and rushed out of the Common Room ten minutes before the end of lunch.

~*~

Merlin hadn’t needed ‘the projectile encounter’ to know he was infatuated with Arthur, but it fueled his crush and his curiosity, so that he found himself seeking him out not just in his lessons, but any other time he might be able to catch an unguarded glimpse of him. Thus far, Arthur was something of a puzzle. Half the time he acted like a prat, arrogantly barging his way through school life not caring who he offended or annoyed on the way. Yet there were times he was morose, pensive or dismissive of even his friends. Then there were the study periods where Merlin would spy Arthur, sometimes curled up on the tatty sofa in the Common Room or hunched over a desk in the library, usually reading what Merlin surmised were his English texts. Merlin had seen him one day, idly chewing the end of his pencil, reading Little Dorrit while he intermittently made notes in the margins, his expression intense and determined as he scribbled. It had made something coil in Merlin’s gut, as if the revelation was some justification for his longing and perhaps a sliver of a reason to pursue him, because maybe there was more to Arthur than met the eye. It didn’t change the fact, however, that Arthur had shown no interest in him whatsoever.

Over the next few weeks, Merlin tried to keep his crush to himself, but Gwen was much too sharp not to notice. 

They were doing enzyme-based experiments and it was Merlin’s job to sit with the timer (really, Gwen could be so bossy) and wait for their gas syringe to fill up. Gwen did all the measuring and pouring and Merlin didn’t object, because the view today was spectacular. Arthur’s hair had got longer since the start of term and as he moved around, or leaned over his apparatus, he had to sweep away errant strands of hair from his obscenely beautiful face. He was careful, precise and if possible, more tidy than Gwen, and Merlin was drawn to the way his lips pursed into a pout in concentration as he …

“Merlin!”

He was startled back into the present. “Oops, I missed it. Sorry.” The glass plunger would have shot straight out of the end of the syringe and probably smashed were it not for the precautionary string tied to each half of the apparatus, thankfully for Merlin.

“You were staring at him again,” Gwen teased.

Merlin tried to act innocent. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please. I know you fancy him.”

Merlin smirked. “I was admiring the neatness of his workbench. You’re slacking, Gwen.”

She humphed and then with a glint in her eye she mused, “Since Perry’s gone we could ask him if he wants to work with us?”

“No!” 

“You know he got full marks on his last piece of coursework?”

“No, I didn’t.” Merlin knew Arthur always got really high marks in Biology, but it dawned on him at that moment that while his homework was always in on time, he’d never seen any of his marks for Maths.

“Too busy ogling him, probably.”

“Yeah … well that’s all I’m ever going to be able to do.” Merlin reset the timer as Gwen measured out the hydrogen peroxide into the flask. He added, “Ready for the next one?” 

“Yes, but pay attention this time, okay? He’ll still be there when we’re done.” Gwen smiled at him fondly. 

Merlin swiveled his stool until he was facing away from Arthur so he wouldn’t be tempted and propped his head lazily on his arm. 

As if sensing his melancholy Gwen said, “He stares at you sometimes.”

“No he doesn’t.” Does he?

“You never know, he might have a little schoolboy crush on you.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous.”

“You’re right, Merlin. He’s probably wondering how such a scatterbrain ever manages to get himself to school in one piece, let alone do A-level practical work. Did you write the last result down?” 

“Yes.” _Actually, no_ , but Merlin remembered what it was and quickly jotted it in the results table Gwen had drawn, before she noticed. 

~*~

A few days later, during one of his study periods, Merlin noticed Arthur was absent from the crowd he usually sat with in the Common Room, which meant he was probably in the library. Merlin decided he would go and see, after all he had as much right to be in there as the next person and if it meant he got to indulge in a look then that was just an added bonus.

The library was quiet; there were no other classes going on and there were only a few Sixth Formers milling about or sat at the desks. Over in a quiet corner, Arthur was sitting at one of the computers. It looked like he was perusing a university website. The UCAS applications were in full swing and there was a lot of talk amongst students and teachers about colleges, courses and how to go online and fill in the forms. For most people it was a constant topic of conversation and Merlin thought this could be the perfect segue into some sort of interaction with Arthur. 

After a brief hesitation, Merlin plucked up the courage to get closer and as he neared Arthur he saw he was looking on the website for University College, London. As luck would have it, Merlin was going to apply to Imperial in London, so there it was, right in from of him: a way to break the ice between them.

“Hi.” Arthur turned his head and glanced at Merlin neutrally, so Merlin took that as an okay to continue. He pointed at the screen and said, “UCL? What subject?”

Arthur turned back to his monitor, but not before Merlin noticed the dark rings under his eyes. He was sat hunched and looked out of sorts … not quite disheveled; Arthur could wear a bin liner and still look smart, but there was a weightiness to his posture that Merlin hadn’t seen before.

“None of your business, Emrys. I’m not going there.” 

On an ordinary day Merlin would have left it there but today Arthur seemed smaller and less sure of himself, so after a deep breath he said, “Then why are you looking at it?”

“I was looking for a friend, if you must know.”

“What course?”

“English.”

“Oh. So where are you applying?” Merlin had to know.

“LSE, and a few other places. LSE’s my first choice, though.” Arthur paused, seemingly knowing full well Merlin wouldn’t know what he was talking about. He added, “LSE is the London School of Economics.”

Arthur turned back to face Merlin, who had perched on the edge of the next desk. He was less abrasive than usual but looked weary and maybe he was, because the mere fact Arthur was entertaining this conversation likely meant he either didn’t have the energy or the inclination to resist Merlin’s barrage of questions.

“What are you applying to do there?”

“Economics.” Arthur rolled his eyes then added, “Obviously.”

“Why Economics? That sounds boring.”

“So I can get a decent job afterwards, idiot. Some of us don’t want to end up losers with crap jobs. What are _you_ going to do?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Merlin, I don’t know what’s wrong with you: you’re a Maths genius. Have you done any research at all about what sort of career you could have with that kind of talent?”

Merlin pulled up a chair, sat down next to him and smirked. “There was a compliment in there somewhere …”

“Oh, fuck off.” The words had no sting, though, and Merlin caught the crinkle at the edge of Arthur’s eyes that he did when he didn’t quite smile with his mouth.

“Actually, I’m going to apply to do Maths at Imperial College. Only I don’t know if I want to live in London. I’ve only ever lived in Emsworth.”

“My half-sister is up there. She did fashion design, but she got into modeling. She loves it … I hardly ever see her now.” 

Arthur looked away and Merlin couldn’t help but note the sadness in his voice. He wanted to ask him if he missed her, but even if Arthur did miss her, he’d never tell Merlin and if Merlin did dare to ask him Arthur would probably reply with an insult for good measure. So Merlin changed the subject. “This friend, the one that wants to do English: UCL’s good is it?”

“After Oxbridge, it’s one of the best.”

“Well … you should tell them to go for it.” Merlin had an inkling of who the friend was, but he knew better than to say anything.

“Thanks for the advice, Merlin. I will.” Arthur smiled and shook his head.

“We might all end up in London, then?” Merlin tried not to sound too enthusiastic; he was treading a fine line. Arthur had never been this pleasant to him before.

“Maybe.” 

“Not that you’d ever see me …” 

Arthur studied Merlin, who felt the heat simmer and rise up over his cheeks and quite possibly his ears: his treacherous bloody ears. Arthur looked like he was on the cusp of saying something. Merlin watched him chewing on his bottom lip, until he released it, reddened and moist. While Merlin had wondered before what it would be like to kiss Arthur, he had never been so tantalisingly close to his mouth, so close that if he dared to he could literally lean forward and taste him. 

Now the blood rushing to his ears was the least of Merlin’s worries as it suddenly took a more southerly direction. He quickly hugged his rucksack to his lap because he knew only too well where all that blood was going and he didn’t need to give Arthur any more fuel to tease him with. 

Arthur must have taken the gesture as a sign Merlin was about to head off as he immediately asked in a low voice, “Merlin, do you have time to check my Maths homework?”

“Yeah, sure. Are you having trouble with it?”

“Isn’t everyone? … Except you, that is.”

“I suppose.” Merlin took a deep breath. He knew Arthur had eaten a big slice of humble pie by asking him, so he didn’t want to add any more to his plate. But he had come this far and had to say, “I could help you, if you like? We share some of the same study periods, anyway.”

Arthur’s answer was a relief. “Thanks … maybe you could, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” 

They spent the remainder of the period looking over Arthur’s homework, which he’d actually completed with little in the way of mistakes. Merlin noticed, though, that Arthur was uncertain, not of his final answers (which he could find in the back of his text book) but of the route he had taken to get to them. As they sat, side by side, Merlin leisurely working his way through each problem, he noticed Arthur’s brow, urgently furrowed; his fists tightly balled into his lap. 

Merlin said gently, “We’ve only just learnt this stuff. It’s not a big deal if you can’t do everything yet … it’ll come.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“In Maths, maybe, but you should see my Biology essays …” Merlin grinned and added, “Then again, maybe you shouldn’t. I don’t want to give you more reason to call me an idiot.”

The tension seemed to ease; the frown falling from Arthur’s face, leaving him still looking tired but less anxious. 

The bell went and they packed up for break, sloping off in different directions as soon as they left the private hush of the library. Merlin wondered whether this new development would make Arthur more pleasant towards him. He didn’t expect friendship. Although, Merlin had noticed, despite his so-called popularity Arthur seemed to spend an awful lot of time on his own. 

As for this supposed _friend_ interested in UCL: Merlin wasn’t that stupid. 

~*~

For the next few weeks, Merlin and Arthur spent a couple of their mutual study periods in the library or, if it was quiet, the Common Room. Contrary to what Merlin had initially thought, Arthur was not a natural mathematician and he took little joy in the subject. He struggled to understand so much of the Pure that Merlin had to wonder how he had even achieved a B in his AS, although his Applied was better and maybe that had offset his marks. Merlin tried to be patient, but there was an ever-apparent anxiety to Arthur when he didn’t understand things the first time around. On a good day he’d sigh and worry his bottom lip. On a bad day he’d swear, stomp and sometimes take it out on Merlin for not explaining things clearly enough. Merlin diplomatically didn’t point out that Mrs. Webb was actually his teacher, and that he could go to her instead. 

Despite the stress involved in helping Arthur, Merlin looked forward to being with him. He had a dry sense of humour and could spot the foibles in everyone, like a predator looking for weaknesses he could exploit before going in for the kill. When he was in a good mood Arthur could make Merlin laugh by quietly mocking their teachers or other students. He would mimic their tics or their voices, or he’d make up silly poems about them. 

Merlin pushed down the pang of guilt he felt at being complicit in Arthur’s ridiculing. He reasoned that it was something they exchanged privately, that no one ever heard what was said or done, and that it was no worse than anything said by the average comedian. 

Unfortunately, there were days when Arthur couldn’t help but share his wit with his victims, and then it wasn’t always quite so funny, especially for them. 

Merlin continued to bring a packed lunch most days, which he ate in the Common Room, thus avoiding the mayhem in the canteen. However, this particular day he was buying lunch as his mum hadn’t had the chance to go shopping and they had been out of anything Merlin fancied to go between his two slices of bread. Arthur and a couple of his friends, Perry and another boy called Eric, were standing in the queue ahead of Merlin. In front of them was a short, freckly boy called Mike, cherubic and pre-pubescent, despite already being sixteen. 

It only took a moment for Merlin to realise Arthur was mercilessly teasing Mike. Every time he reached to choose an item from the buffet Arthur would say spitefully, “Oh no Michael, there are too many calories in pizza, you should have the salad. Although, maybe you should consider some meat; it might help your balls drop.” And so it went on while the queue moved forward pitilessly slowly. 

The three of them were laughing while Mike got increasingly agitated but said nothing. Merlin could see Mike’s lower lip quiver and it made him feel sick: watching Arthur, someone he thought he liked, someone whom he fancied, behaving in such a repugnant way. 

Merlin debated for maybe a heartbeat whether or not he should intervene. “Okay, Arthur, you’ve had your fun. Why don’t you leave him alone?” 

“Well if it isn’t Merlin! Why don’t _you_ mind your own business?” Arthur barely even looked at Merlin as he said it, as if he wasn’t there. 

“Come on, Arthur. You’re being a pathetic wanker.” 

That got his attention. Arthur turned to Merlin and stepped directly in front of him, his face mere inches from Merlin’s as he whispered nastily, “I thought we had an understanding.” 

“Um, no, I don’t think we do. You see, what I don’t _understand_ is why someone who has everything going for them would take so much pleasure in making someone else feel like shit.” As soon as the words left his mouth Merlin knew he was stepping over a line. But he was past the point of no return, so even as the colour rose on Arthur’s cheeks, even as his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared like a baited pit-bull, Merlin couldn’t help but speak his mind. “You’re so lucky Arthur; you have a perfect life, why do you want to make everyone else’s so miserable? Are you just bored and lonely, rich boy?” 

Merlin’s backside hit the floor seconds before he had the chance to register Arthur had pushed him over. As Merlin sat there wincing and blushing, he reluctantly considered himself lucky that Arthur had stormed out of the canteen, only overturning a couple of chairs on his way out, instead of overturning _him_ or rearranging his face. 

Needless to say, that afternoon they didn’t have their usual Maths date during fifth period. 

~*~ 

Merlin’s mother, Hunith, didn’t work on Mondays, so when he got home from school she was there; the glorious smell of baking assailing him as he opened the front door. 

“Hello, love. Did you have a good day?” she called from the kitchen. 

“Yeah, it was okay.” Merlin dumped his bag and hung up his coat. He was torn between heading for the kitchen where there would be tea, cake and his mum who would know right away he was upset or heading up to his room feeling hungry, to indulge in a big sulk on his own. 

Hunith poked her head through the door and smiled. “I made flapjacks and a Bakewell tart and the kettle’s on. Got five minutes for me?” 

Merlin smiled, resigned. “Of course I do.” 

Leaning against the kitchen counter while Hunith made them mugs of tea, Merlin picked at the edge of a flapjack. It was still warm and crumbly. After a nibble on the crumbs, the sweet syrupy taste melting over his tongue, he picked up the whole thing, using his other hand to catch the falling debris. It was gone in two bites. 

“Plate,” she frowned, belatedly tucking it under his chin. She’d dyed her hair darker to a deep mulberry, as she always did when the colder weather came, ready for when she went back to wearing velvet and leather instead of linen and lace. Only Merlin didn’t feel like mentioning it. Instead, he helped himself to another flapjack and cut himself a large wedge of the tart. 

Hunith squeezed out the teabags and set the cup down next to him while she held hers up to her chest with both hands. She looked him over before saying, “What’s wrong, love?” 

Merlin never worked out how she did that; just knew. “Nothing.” She kept looking at him, fully aware he would tell her in the end. He always did. “Well, actually there is something …it’s just … this boy, Arthur.” 

“The one you’re helping with Maths?” She smiled knowingly. Merlin might have mentioned him quite a lot in conversation recently, so in all likelihood she had an idea he liked him, even if he hadn’t out and out said it. 

“I was helping him. I’m not after today.” 

“Why?” 

“He was bullying someone in the canteen today. Just name-calling, but it was cruel and really pathetic.” Merlin continued to recount the events in the canteen while Hunith sipped at her tea, listening in that way she did, all fond eyes and smiles. She was an astute woman, though, and Merlin knew better than to assume she was just going to take the facts as they were. “So, after I confronted him he lost his temper and pushed me over, in front of everyone. It was so humiliating.” Merlin sighed. “I don’t get it. Sometimes, when he’s on his own he is so funny and charming and it’s easy to like him, but other times he’s a pig.” 

“And yet, you still can’t help but like him?” 

“I did. Right now I hate him.” 

“No you don’t. You’re not capable of hating anyone.” 

Merlin shrugged and couldn’t help but smile a little. She was right. He didn’t hate Arthur, but he was angry and confused. His mum was always the voice of reason and he sometimes took it for granted; didn’t realise the easy way in which he spoke with her wasn’t the way some of his friends spoke to their parents. 

“Why do you think he does it?” 

“You know him better than me, but my understanding is that kids who bully at school are often bullied at home … any chance it could be that?” 

Merlin paused as he suddenly realised he knew virtually nothing about Arthur’s home life. “I suppose.” 

“From all the times you’ve talked about him, it sounds to me like Arthur is under a lot of pressure … whether it’s from home or his friends at school or just himself, who knows, but it sounds like he’s trying to keep up this image … and it can be lonely at the top.” She paused then added, “I’m not excusing what he did to that boy or you, but I have to wonder why you like him if he has no redeeming features except being good-looking.” 

“I don’t know why I like him. I mean, he treats me like shit half the time.” 

“Only half the time?” She laughed before adding more seriously, “Have you thought about how you treat him? I mean, you’ve assumed that everything in his life perfect. Is it really? Do you really know? He got pretty upset at what you said to him today.” 

“Yeah, but he didn’t need to push me over, in front of everyone!” 

“No, he shouldn’t have done that. But he didn’t wait around to gloat about it. You said he stormed out. Maybe he was waiting for you to go after him?” 

“And smash my face in?” 

“Do you seriously think he would have done that?” 

“No.” The truth was Merlin hadn’t thought about it. After Arthur left the cafeteria, Merlin had bought his lunch and eaten it in the Common Room with Ben and Amanda. Arthur had been in their Applied Maths lesson after lunch, but had barely looked up from his book the whole time, then after that they had both had a study period. Only Arthur had signed out and gone home early, without a word to Merlin, foregoing the time they usually looked at some homework together. 

“I can’t tell you what to do, and the last thing I want is you being bullied, but you’re strong Merlin, and about the best friend a person could have. Maybe you could give him another chance?” 

“Yeah. Maybe. I mean, how else is he going to get his homework done?” Merlin said cynically. 

“It must have taken a lot of courage for him to swallow his pride and ask for your help. But now he’s got to know you, he’s probably glad he did.” She stepped into him, kissed him on the cheek. “After all, what’s not to love?” Then she took her tea into the living room. 

She always knew how to make him feel better. Merlin couldn’t remember a time where she wasn’t able to allay his fears, bolster him up and make him believe he was invincible. But he wasn’t a child anymore and neither was Arthur. So much for just getting through this last year at school: Merlin wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. He finished his Bakewell tart and went up to his room to tackle his Organic Chemistry homework. 

That night Merlin laid awake thinking about Arthur. He replayed the events of the day, but it only left him more frustrated and angry. So he let his mind wander past what his mum had said. Maybe, just maybe, Arthur was waiting to be figured out. Maybe he was more of an enigma than Merlin imagined. 

Merlin indulged himself with dreams of helping Arthur through whatever crisis it was he was having (whether his next car would be a convertible, whether the maid had cleaned his room, where they would go on the family yacht that weekend). He thought about him as he rubbed himself, flushed and frantic, against the sheet until he shuddered into the tissues he had ready. Even though it was just idle fantasy Merlin was slightly embarrassed to be even thinking of Arthur while he wanked and knew that if he entertained those thoughts too vividly they might pop into his head in Arthur’s presence and that wouldn’t do at all. Especially now Arthur probably hated his guts. 

~*~ 

 

It was six weeks into the autumn term, so by now everyone was into the routine of the Tuesday morning double period being used almost exclusively for practical work. Merlin loved the practical work itself, even though he invariably ended up breaking something or spilling some mess or other over his notes. Gwen was extremely organised and with her keeping things in check he muddled through. Merlin’s forte was spotting patterns and interpreting their results. They made a good team.

 

However, much to Merlin’s dismay, today Gwen was still off school with a cold, so not only was he going to miss being able to tell her what had happened the day before in the canteen, he was going to have to work on his own or pair up with someone else. As he entered the lab, he tried not to entertain the fact Arthur was probably going to be the only other person without a partner. Since Perry had dropped out of Biology, Arthur had for the most part worked on his own. It was only since he and Arthur had started doing Maths together that he had joined Merlin and Gwen for Biology practicals. 

Mrs. Bloom had had a haircut and as she came into the room it was the first topic of conversation. She didn’t indulge them for long, but Merlin could nonetheless feel Arthur’s boring stare on the back of his head. 

“OK, everyone, let’s press on. Today you are going to experiment on each other.” The sheets were passed back amidst a hum of chatter as she continued, “The aim for this morning is for you to measure each other’s blood pressure, resting heart rate, resting breathing rate and body fat percentage. I’m going to show you how to use a sphygmomanometer and some of the methods for body fat measurement. I want you to critically review those as well as the use of BMI as an indicator for obesity.” 

Merlin scanned through the notes and moved to the front with the others as Mrs. Bloom went through how to use all the equipment. His heart sank as he realised he was going to have to find someone to work with, while his classmates excitedly teamed up with their usual partners. Despite what he had talked about with his mum the day before, Merlin was still annoyed with Arthur, and fearful of how Arthur was going to be towards him. This was not the time or the place to have it out with him: Merlin just wanted to get on with the work without having to be on edge the whole lesson. 

As he’d feared, there was going to be no reprieve today. Arthur silently gathered up his notes and moved them next to Merlin, while Mrs. Bloom handed out some of the equipment and pointed them in the direction of the rest. Some of the girls had made a big show of asking to go to the toilets to do their skinfold tests; they didn’t want to reveal their flesh to all and sundry. Merlin knew Arthur wouldn’t let him off that lightly, and would no doubt take great delight in showing off his own physique. 

Arthur was brandishing the calipers for the skinfold tests as he said with a sneer, “Oh look, I get to go with Merlin.” As he sat down next to Merlin he rattled on, “Body fat … 0.1 percent … that would be on your _ear lobes_. Heart rate … positively _racing_ now you’ve got me next to you … breathing fast and heavy … Honestly, Merlin, I could hear you before I sat down. And what was the other thing? Blood pressure … well I imagine yours will be _through the roof_ now I’ve got you all flustered.” 

Arthur sat back smugly and waited for a reaction. Merlin could feel the flush rising over his cheeks and he knew he should just rise above it, just ignore it and do the work, but he wanted to say something, something _hurtful._ Only what could he say to someone like Arthur: Mr. Perfect Body himself? 

In a flash of foolish spontaneity Merlin spat back at Arthur, “What about you then? Worried I’m going to pinch all your _fat?”_ Merlin turned and grabbed hard at Arthur’s middle, catching the hard flesh in the angry grip of his fingers. 

Arthur flinched back hard, leapt off his stool and barked, “Don’t you fucking touch me, you fucking wanker.” 

Merlin had not expected that, and he found himself enraged by it. 

Mrs. Bloom had conveniently disappeared into the prep room, and the others were scattered about doing their own thing. There was nothing to stop Merlin giving Arthur yet another piece of his mind. 

“What is your problem? What have I ever done to you? Why can’t you just be civil instead of being a fucking _pig?_ ” Even as the words came out Merlin was unprepared for the crack in his voice. He didn’t want things to be this way and it was spinning out of his control in the ugliest of directions and he hated it and hated Arthur for making him behave this way and if he could have, he thought he might punch him, but he never would, never could. 

Stood a few feet away, looking down at Merlin still sat on his stool, Arthur said derisively, “Oh, man up, Merlin. You look like you’re going to cry.” 

Merlin was defeated. He did feel like he was going to cry. “Fuck off. Leave me alone.” 

“Or what? Are you going to tell Mrs. Bloom?” 

“No.” Merlin looked at him, almost pleading, “Look, you made your point yesterday. It doesn’t matter what I say or do, you don’t care about anyone but yourself. I’m done with you, alright?” 

But Arthur wasn’t listening. “You’re not nearly done with me,” he sneered. “I can see it. What would it take, Merlin?” Arthur stepped in behind Merlin, twisted his arm up his back and used his weight to press Merlin into the desk. 

It hurt. Merlin couldn’t stop the first yelp of pain, but then he gritted his teeth and muttered, “Let go, you stupid shit.” 

Arthur had him pinned and his shoulder hurt like hell. But in order to keep Merlin there Arthur had balanced some of his weight on his free arm which was leaning on the table with his palm splayed out in front of Merlin. In desperation, Merlin balled his own free hand into a fist and banged it down hard onto Arthur’s spread palm. 

Arthur pulled back immediately, rubbing his hand and spitting out, “You fucking prick, you stupid fucking idiot.” Then he leaned in so close Merlin could feel his breath hot on his already burning face, and said softly, venomously, “Just so you know, Emrys, I only get A’s in this subject. You fuck up your part of this report and I’ll kill you. Got it?” 

Merlin sunk down miserably on his stool, rubbed his shoulder and stared at his notes. Diagrams of arms and bodies and tables and instructions blurred in front of his eyes. He was vaguely aware of the movement and noise from the rest of the class, all seemingly having a whale of a time as they took their measurements amidst raucous laughter. Merlin tried to fight back the sting in his eyes but as he blinked a tear fell and plopped straight onto his paper. 

Arthur had sat down next to him, breathing sharply while he angrily snapped a pencil in half and jabbed the frayed end onto his notepad. 

Mrs. Bloom picked that very moment to come back into the lab and start walking around, checking on everyone’s progress. Merlin blinked back the wetness from his eyes and sighed in a shaky breath. 

“Are you all right, Merlin?” Mrs. Bloom placed her hand on Merlin’s forearm. She leant in and spoke quietly enough no one else except maybe Arthur could hear. 

“Yeah, fine,” he croaked. 

“I’d like to talk to you … outside please.” She stood back and waited so that Merlin had no choice but to go. 

The hallway was empty and the doors to all the labs were closed. It was as private as it was possible to get in this particular part of the school. Mrs. Bloom wasted no time getting to the point. “Sineeta came and told me what happened between you and Arthur. I don’t care if you’re seven or seventeen, Merlin, I will not tolerate bullying.” 

“It was nothing. Look, I’m fine. He just takes it too far sometimes, that’s all.” 

“You seemed to be getting friendly with him, so you’ll perhaps know he has a lot on his plate, but it’s no excuse. Now I can take this to your Head of Year …” 

“No, don’t do that … I’m fine … really. Can I go back in now?” Merlin wondered what it was on Arthur’s plate that Mrs. Bloom might think explained his behaviour. Arthur would never tell him. Not now. 

“Yes, but send Arthur out here. I want a word with him, too.” She looked scary, even with her new vivacious haircut and turquoise glasses. 

Merlin dashed back to his seat, but before he had a chance to say anything to Arthur, Mrs. Bloom stepped into the doorway and her voice sliced across the room. “Arthur. Out here. Now.” And without looking at him, Arthur was gone. 

Arthur said nothing when he came back inside, though his face was flushed and his eyes wet. He was followed by Mrs. Bloom who simply said, “You two need to get a move on; we’re going through your essays after break.” 

Very quietly Arthur said, “Shall I take all your measurements first?” 

Merlin nodded. They worked in silence. Arthur waited for Merlin to pull out his shirt, and roll up his sleeve and his trouser leg so that he could pinch his skinfolds with the calipers. He was surprisingly gentle: Merlin had half expected him to deliberately pinch him harder than was necessary. It allowed Merlin to calm a little but his heart was still racing. When he got a resting pulse rate of one hundred and twelve Arthur looked at him with something that might have been regret - but there was no telling what for. 

When he was done, Merlin took Arthur’s pulse and breathing rate then measured his blood pressure. He didn’t want to do the body fat measurements. Merlin hesitated long enough Arthur picked up on it. 

“What’s the matter, Merlin? Never seen a real man’s body?” Arthur was trying to sound light, but there was an edge to his voice. 

“No, and I’m not about to, either,” he replied, attempting a witty retort that just came out cracked and pathetic. 

Still, Arthur half laughed then lifted his shirt. As he pinched at Arthur’s waist and felt his warm and solid flesh between his fingers, Merlin felt bitter and hollow. All the hours he’d spent day-dreaming about Arthur and in this one moment all those fantasies were crushed and ruined. 

When it came to his inner thigh Arthur undid his trousers and dropped them. “Come on, Merlin,” he teased, “before the girls cream their knickers.” 

Merlin tried not to let the quake of his hands show. He tried to do it quickly but then he noticed it: a massive bruise that spanned across the backs of Arthur’s thighs. “How did you get that?” he gasped without pause for thought. 

“Rugby,” Arthur said flatly. 

Merlin thought that strange because the edge of the bruise was completely straight, like Arthur had been hit with a baseball bat or something. Before he could give the matter another thought he was behind Arthur pinching the flesh at the back of his upper arm. He noticed some bruises there, too, that looked like deep finger marks. Those looked like they could have been caused playing rugby, with all that grabbing and grappling. Only Arthur had never once before mentioned he played rugby and the school didn’t have an under eighteens team. 

Merlin’s stomach churned uncomfortably. Had Arthur been in a fight? Or had someone beaten him? 

~*~ 

The last period that day was a study for both Arthur and Merlin. Merlin had curled himself up in the corner of the Common Room on the tatty old sofa and started reading an article for Biology on genetic engineering. He supposed Arthur would sign out early, as he had done yesterday. That would be something of a relief, as the day had only become more and more awkward. After their fight in Biology, Arthur had worked through morning break and handed Merlin all the results neatly written up in a table, plus headers for all the sections needed to complete the report. This was not, as Merlin had initially feared, to ensure he completed the work to Arthur’s exacting standards, but as Arthur had quietly said, “I know Gwen usually helps you with that.” 

Then, at lunch, Arthur had come back from the canteen and handed Merlin a can of Coke and a Mars Bar. He’d tried to make light of it by saying, “Seven percent body fat is too low, Merlin.” 

Merlin had wondered if Arthur was worried that Merlin was going to tell their Head of Year about what had happened and this was his way of buttering him up. But that wasn’t it, since it turned out, courtesy of Viv, Mr. Sewell had summoned Arthur at the start of lunch. 

The only conclusion Merlin could come to was that this was Arthur’s attempt to apologise. Merlin didn’t get it, though. He would have been quite satisfied with Arthur having the guts to just say he was sorry. Pride, it seemed, made people do the weirdest things. 

Much to Merlin’s surprise, Arthur came into the Common Room about fifteen minutes after their Pure Maths lesson. He sat down at one of the desks on the other side of the room, with headphones on, writing in a notepad, with his Pure Maths text and formula books open on the desk in front of him. He glanced over at Merlin a few times and gave him the occasional nod, but Merlin just looked away, hoping the heat he could feel in his cheeks wasn’t apparent to anyone else. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted this friendship anymore, whether he could take the stress. He thought about texting Gwen and then decided he would call her when he got home. 

Ten minutes before the bell rang Arthur started packing up. He looked over and said, “Merlin … I’m off now … to beat the rush out of the car park. Can I give you a lift?” 

“No thanks. I get the train to Emsworth.” 

Arthur scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and asked again, “Can’t I give you a lift instead?” 

“Where do you live then?” Merlin sighed. He had to give him props for perseverance. 

“Chichester … but I’ve got business along your way. Maybe you can tell me what answers you got on that multiple choice Bloom set us on the way back.” 

“Why would you need to see my answers?” This had to be scraping the barrel. Arthur did not need Merlin’s help with that. 

Only Arthur’s face crinkled sweetly at the edges as he dipped his head down and replied through shuttered lashes, “So I can tell you how many you got wrong.” 

Right there, at that moment, Merlin knew he was doomed. In the space of a day, Arthur had broken and fixed his heart, had lost him and won him back, and if he let Arthur drive him home there would be no turning back. He sighed and said, “All right, then. So long as you let me check your Pure homework.” 

“Deal.” 

Arthur smiled, his eyes lighting up his whole face, and Merlin’s stomach flipped because it was the first time he had ever seen Arthur smile, really smile, like that … and he’d done it for him. 

“You’re not going to try to push me out of the passenger door while we’re on the A27?” Merlin smiled back, as he gathered up his things and packed them away, while Arthur came over and perched on the end of the sofa, waiting for him. 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because you hate me.” If he didn’t say it, even jokingly, the feeling would always be there, in the back of his mind, despite anything Arthur said or did and despite the fact that he knew deep down it wasn’t true. 

Arthur didn’t hesitate in his response. He clutched Merlin’s arm and said, almost desperately, “I don’t hate you.” 

Merlin was taken aback, and just stared at him for what seemed like an age, until Arthur dropped his arm and headed for the door with Merlin right behind him. 

~*~ 

Hunith had been a single parent ever since Merlin could remember. Over the years there had been male acquaintances. Merlin remembered Mrs. Yates from next door, then her daughter Anna coming in to babysit him while his mum went out on the occasional date, when he was younger. But there had never been anyone but them living in their house on King Street. The house was small but big enough for the two of them. Merlin had no doubt Arthur’s home would be far more grandiose than his and he hoped, given everything else that had happened between them, Arthur wasn’t going to let himself down by being a prat about it. 

As they pulled up outside the front of the house, the street still half empty of parked cars, Merlin asked, “Want to come in for a bit?” 

Arthur perked up, “Okay. Will your mum be home?” 

“No, not until half five.” 

Arthur seemed disappointed at this news. Merlin shook his head in disbelief and let them in. 

As Merlin put the kettle on, Arthur settled himself in the living room, which was open to the dining area. These houses hadn’t been built like that, but most people had knocked the two tiny rooms into one to provide more space. 

“Tea, coffee or something cold?” Merlin called through from the kitchen. 

“Tea. No sugar.” 

“Sweet enough?” 

“According to some.” 

Merlin winced. 

Merlin came in to find Arthur scrutinising the photographs on the bookshelf. In particular, one of Merlin when he was about four sitting on a donkey at Southsea beach wearing a Power Rangers sun hat, looking like he was hating every minute of it. 

“Cute,” Arthur grinned. 

“I loved that hat, bloody hated the donkey, though.” 

Arthur then moved on to the CD’s. It was funny watching him, on someone else’s turf, less sure of himself but much more appealing. He’d thrown his blazer over the arm of the sofa and sat himself cross-legged in front of the tower of CD’s and was slowly scanning down the titles. 

“They’re mostly my mum’s,” Merlin said, by way of automatic apology, sitting himself down next to Arthur. Will always took great delight in putting on some of Hunith’s more embarrassing music, as if his own mum didn’t have sometimes equally appalling taste. At least Hunith had never been a fan of Celine Dion. 

“What’s this?” Arthur looked round at him with a sly smile, and said playfully, “Don’t look, Merlin, there are naked breasts on the cover!” 

He leaned in and covered Merlin’s eyes as he waved the CD around, while Merlin half-heartedly fought him off, laughing as he said, “The Pixies. They’re pretty good actually.” 

“Put it on then.” 

It went straight into a solid drum beat then a twangy guitar and some heavy wailing. Arthur seemed to enjoy it; he stretched himself out on the carpet with his arms folded behind his head. Merlin watched him make himself at home and liked this new, improved, relaxed version. He thought again about kissing him … 

Arthur looked up at him and said, “Did I hurt you, in Biology?” 

Merlin saw Arthur’s worried expression and had to look away, unable to lie to his face. “No.” 

“I did, didn’t I?” He sat up and put his hand on Merlin’s back. “I’m sorry … for all of it.” 

The music bridged their silence until Merlin found the courage to turn to him and say, “Why do you do it? Act like a prat?” Merlin sharply felt the loss as Arthur took his hand from his back. 

“You don’t think I care if half of those morons like me? They don’t even know me … but you, there’s something about you, Merlin.” Now his arms were wrapped around his knees and Merlin had never seen him look like this … he was … nervous. 

Merlin wondered if he leaned in, whether it would be too much of a risk to go for the kiss, because maybe Arthur was just looking for a friend. Merlin didn’t know enough, hadn’t had enough experience to know quite what this was. It was new, exciting, frightening, and it was all uncharted territory. 

Too late: Arthur reached round for his blazer and Merlin watched him delve into the inside pocket and pull out a lighter, then what looked like a hand-rolled cigarette. The twist at the end and the roach in the other meant it could only be one thing. 

“Let’s go outside,” Arthur said, getting up. He pulled Merlin to his feet. 

“I haven’t … I don’t …” Merlin stumbled over the words because once again Arthur had taken him by surprise and while he wasn’t averse to trying it, he hadn’t been ready, hadn’t been prepared. He considered that perhaps this was a feeling he was going to have to get used to if he was going to keep hanging around with Arthur. 

“Oh. Do you mind if I …?” 

“No.” Merlin lead them past the dining table and opened the patio door. 

“Hang on,” Arthur said, momentarily going back to the stereo to turn the music up. The woman was singing about a big, big love. Merlin’s heart was almost thumping out of his throat. 

It was mild for mid-October and Hunith’s raised beds were still full of sunny colours. Arthur perched on the edge of one while Merlin dusted off a plastic chair and sat opposite him, their knees only inches apart. He watched Arthur casually light up and take a couple of long tokes on the joint. The smoke curled out of his nostrils as he breathed it back down then blew it out of his mouth. 

“Don’t drag too hard or hold the smoke down too long,” he said, turning it and offering the roach end to Merlin. 

After a long second’s hesitation, Merlin took it and ventured a tiny drag. It wasn’t the first time he’d tried smoking, but this was his first joint and by taking Arthur’s advice it turned out not to be half as bad as he thought it would. He felt the slow buzz wash through him, so he had another go. 

“I never imagined you a pothead,” Merlin said, handing the joint back to Arthur, who was delightfully un-busily scanning the clear blue sky. The curve of his muscles pressed against the thin pull of fabric of his shirt, and Merlin could have sat there watching him, just watching him in all his golden beautifulness until the sun went down. 

Arthur took another toke then replied, “It numbs the pain.” 

“What pain?” 

Arthur eyed Merlin carefully as the wind blew his fringe in fine strands across his face. “Don’t look so worried … I meant the metaphorical pain of youth.” He huffed as he added, “Why do you think I smoke? ... because I like getting stoned, you idiot.” 

The mellowness washed over Merlin, smoothing out the randomly pointed edges of what might have been the weirdest day of his life, making it seem perfectly normal. Arthur handed the joint back to Merlin with his lighter. 

“No thanks. I’ve had enough.” 

“Keep it … for a rainy day.” Arthur pressed it into Merlin’s hand and stood up. “I’ve got to go, but we should do this again some time.” 

Merlin looked up at him and nodded, desperate to ask him not to go, but the words stuck in his throat, dry from the smoke. He was feeling a little dizzy but whether it was from the drugs or something latent that had been there all along, he couldn’t be sure. 

Arthur was grinning down at him as he suddenly said, “Ah, fuck it.” Then he cupped Merlin’s jaw with both hands and kissed him long and softly on the mouth. “There, now you can go have a wank and think of me.” 

Merlin blushed furiously but could do nothing but watch dumbstruck as Arthur let himself out. 

As the front door slammed Merlin sprinted up to his room, unzipped his flies and in a matter of swift strokes came with a groan, the taste of Arthur’s hash-scented mouth still fresh on his lips.

~*~

Will’s Mum, Meredith, was having a _soirée_ (Hunith had snorted and said, “Who does she think she is, Hyacinth Bucket?”), which was how it was that Will came to be testing out a new spaghetti bolognaise recipe at Merlin’s house. Gwen and Viv had come over to join them for the evening and the four of them were all crammed into the tiny kitchen drinking cider and munching on garlic bread. 

Will had taken an immediate shine to Viv - completely undeterred by the fact she was two inches taller than him without her shoes on and insisted on calling him ‘Willy’. He said it was cute, she said it was cute that he thought it was cute. Gwen and Merlin rolled their eyes and decided to get drunk; Gwen didn’t need to worry about driving as her dad was going to pick her and Viv up at eleven. 

When Hunith skipped down the stairs and Gwen saw her stop in the hallway to get her coat she turned to Merlin and did a silent, “Wow!” 

Hunith missed it, but poked her head in the door and said with a wink, “Serviettes are in the sideboard in the dining room: Merlin has a tendency to dribble spaghetti sauce down his chin.” 

“Mum!” It was no use being indignant. She was less embarrassing than Will’s mum, at least, who had a year-round fake tan and was getting new boobs for Christmas. (She had no compunction about sharing this with anyone who was unfortunate enough to be in earshot.) 

Hunith squeezed into the kitchen, kissed Merlin and kissed Will, and headed out the door with, “See you later.” 

Gwen eyes were wide and she grinned as she said, “Merlin, your mum!” 

“What about her?” he smirked back. 

“She’s so glamorous … she looked _fantastic_. Do you think she’d let me take a look in her wardrobe?” 

“Probably. Although I wouldn’t advise it.” 

“Why not?” 

“Will got a bit of a shock when we looked under his mum’s bed last summer. There were toys.” 

Will shuddered and made a disgusted noise, for effect, while he drained the spaghetti. 

Viv chimed in, “Oh, get over yourselves. My mum bought me my first vibrator for my sixteenth birthday. And I’ve got one in my bag right now, you know, for emergencies.” 

Will went the colour of his bolognaise. Merlin doubted it had anything to do with the steam gusting up from the sink. Then he wondered momentarily what kind of emergency might warrant the use of a vibrator, but quickly got back to stirring the sauce, because he realised that was sort of obvious. 

“So, why wasn’t Arthur invited?” Will asked, sounding uncharacteristically shrill. 

“Because then Merlin would just moon over him all night and we’d never get to find out anything,” Gwen said. 

“I don’t moon. And there’s nothing to find out.” 

Will dished up the food then the conversation moved to the dining room. Actually, Merlin decided it was more like an offensive. Will had planted himself next to Viv, which was like putting a match next to a firecracker, and Gwen was sat beside him, which was no help at all. They had him surrounded. 

Merlin wasn’t sure how much he wanted to tell them. If he said out loud everything that had happened he had a suspicion they wouldn’t see it anywhere near as positively as he did. This, in turn, made him wonder if this wasn’t simply _infatuation infinitum_. If he said that Arthur made his heart skip a beat when he looked at him, if he told them he knew the difference between a fake smile and a real one, and that when Arthur had smiled at him, genuinely, his stomach had flipped, they would just think he was a besotted idiot. Even he thought he was a besotted idiot. 

Merlin’s mouth had gone dry so he gulped down a few mouthfuls of cider then immediately regretted it. The trouble with cider was all those bubbles. The trouble with Merlin was that he couldn’t hold his drink. The trouble with drinking cider at home meant it was far too easy for your friends to see to it you drank enough that your tongue became very loose … very loose indeed. 

Viv was charming and very vociferous on the subject. “Merlin, you’re head over heels. You’ve gone under: hook, line and sinker.” She added, between mouthfuls of cheesecake, “Quite frankly, I don’t blame you. It’s incredibly attractive, all that angst.” 

Will pulled a sullen face and said, “He sounds like a prat to me. Where’s the spliff he left you?” 

“I flushed it down the loo. If mum found it she’d have gone apeshit. And he’s not a prat – not really.” 

“Don’t worry, Will,” Viv cooed as she draped a slender arm around his neck. “He’s not _my_ type. I like a diamond in the rough.” 

The dopey grin on Will’s face was a picture, only Merlin was too drunk to be bothered to go and find the camera and in any case, Will had no shame. 

Gwen was giggly. She had been giggling behind her hand out of the corner of Merlin’s eye since they started on dessert. All he could see were black curls bobbing up and down insolently while he poured out his heart and soul and he suspected she was teasing when she said, “So when are you bringing him home to meet your mum?” 

Merlin replied casually, “I hadn’t thought about it.” 

Will bellowed with laughter, “You’re a crappy liar, Emrys.” 

~*~ 

Hunith came back a little after ten. 

The four of them were distributed in varying degrees upon the sofa: a tangle of limbs, scarves, cushions and a crocheted blanket, watching ‘Never Mind the Buzzcocks’. 

“Hello,” she said, leaning around the door frame. She looked a little tipsy, even to Merlin. “Anyone want a cuppa?” 

Of course they all did, but none of them had been bothered enough to do it themselves. So she made a pot then ensconced herself in the living room with them. 

When the adverts came on Hunith said from her armchair, “So which of you two girls is going to tell me about Arthur?” 

Viv was like a public service announcement. Merlin couldn’t reach her head to clamp his hand over her mouth, so he tried to shrink a little lower, but was impeded by Gwen’s legs draped over his lap. 

“Well, he’s ridiculously good-looking, except he’s got this crooked teeth thing going, but it’s adorable, you know, that whole beauty in imperfection? He’s your archetypal angry young man. You should hear him in English, eh Gwen?” 

“Yeah. He argues about everything; has to contradict everyone. The thing is he’s bloody brilliant. He wrote this short story and Mr. Owen likened it to Pinter. Pinter. I’d be lucky to be likened to Roger Hargeaves. 

“A most talented man,” Will chimed in. 

“What?” Merlin was losing track of the conversation. 

Will helped him out. “He wrote the Mr. Men, you nonce.” 

Hunith was laughing, her eyes lit up as she said, “You should know that, Merlin. Mr. Happy was your favourite.” 

They all laughed, the girls cooed and Will added, “Nice one.” 

“Shut up: all of you. Buzzcocks is back on.” Thank goodness. Next she’d be telling them about his favourite bloody Superman underwear or how he used to sleep on his stomach with his bum in the air until he was six. 

Will already knew this, of course, and had plenty of worse skeletons in his cupboard, but Gwen and Viv did not need to know. 

Gwen seemed to have found her stride and wasn’t finished. “Hey, we were talking about Arthur. He likes Merlin and that’s a fact, doesn’t he, Viv?” 

“I would have to agree.” She scratched her chin and said, “Gwen and I have done our research on this matter.” 

“What research?” Oh no, what had they done? Why did girls always have to interfere? 

“Well, I was in English the other week, complaining that Merlin had spilled something on my lab book in Chemistry, and how clumsy he is, and Viv was nudging and poking me, because who should be listening but Arthur? Only he was trying to pretend he wasn’t listening.” 

Merlin decided this was pure supposition, probably to make him embarrassed, but he was beginning to get those butterflies, nonetheless. “So? That doesn’t tell you anything.” 

Gwen continued, “So then Viv says, ‘Arthur, Merlin’s in your Maths class, isn’t he?’ And he says something like, ‘Yeah, so what of it?’ like it meant nothing at all, and then what did you say, Viv?” 

“I said, ‘I hear he’s good in Maths but there’s nothing to mess up in there, is there?’” 

Gwen propped herself up a little higher and said with a grin, “So _he_ said, ‘He’s a genius’ then his face lit up like it was Christmas, then he said, with a grin on his face, ‘But he has fallen over Mrs. Webb’s handbag a couple of times.’ And that was it … the _look of love_ was written all over his face.” 

Then they collapsed into giggles and coos. 

Merlin felt the blush creep up his cheeks, but he couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but hope they were right. He buried his face in the cushion so they wouldn’t see the smile that threatened to break his face. 

After a few moments, Hunith said, “Perhaps you should have invited Arthur over. I think it’s about time I met him, don’t you?” 

“That’s what we said. But I think he’s saving that for next weekend.” Gwen looked up at him and smirked. 

Merlin emerged, flustered and said, “Yeah, is that all right?” 

“Of course it is. You girls are welcome to come over anytime, too.” 

“What about me?” Will said indignantly. 

“Will, if I locked all the doors and windows and set up a barricade, you’d still find a way in. You don’t need an invitation.” 

They all laughed and Merlin felt about as happy as he could be. He wondered what Arthur was up to. Maybe he’d email him after the others had left. Or maybe he wouldn’t. It was all well and good laughing and joking about him and Arthur, but there was no getting away from Arthur’s temper, from the fact he could be a spiteful bully and that sometimes Merlin just didn’t get him at all. There was something missing from the equation and Merlin still couldn’t figure out what it was. 

~*~ 

Merlin’s plans to invite Arthur over were scuppered by Arthur’s plans to go on holiday for half term. He had mentioned to Merlin, however, that he was having an eighteenth birthday party the weekend after. Of course, everyone he knew would be invited and it was going to be at his house. 

Arthur had come back from Spain with a golden glow, although he looked thinner. Merlin thought he seemed glad to be back as he greeted his friends in the Common Room, casting Merlin barely a glance. Merlin sat watching him from the sidelines, too shy to go over to him while he was surrounded by his entourage, like a spectator on someone else’s life. This someone slipped through the waters of teen popularity like a yacht in full sail. Most of his peers were simply left in his wake, with a flash of his smile, a turn of his head or a slap on the back, trying to follow on in the slipstream. Others never left the shore. Merlin wondered if that was him, left on the shore with nothing but the warm sun and salty breeze. Seeing him back, looking like that, Merlin wondered if what he thought might be happening between them wasn’t really happening at all. 

He slunk off to the Chemistry labs early and set up his burette and his tray of reagents and indicators. Gwen would be pleased; the last time he’d managed to spill phenolphthalein all over her notebook and she vowed never to work with him again unless he kept his chemical bottles over the other side of the bench away from her. 

Their teacher had sympathetically given Merlin a little plastic tray especially (Gwen was not to be messed with when cross and she did like things just so), so he didn’t keep knocking stuff over. Merlin didn’t know how other people managed. He just couldn’t help getting into a bit of a panic when he knew the end-point of the reaction was coming. It made him jumpy. 

Merlin absently traced the patterns of light cast on the desk as the sun poured through the window as if it would somehow all connect and he could make some kind of coherent pattern out of the shapes that danced and jittered. He had had no idea falling in love would be so complicated. 

It wasn’t until after lunch Merlin saw Arthur. He casually said hello. 

“Hi. Have you been avoiding me?” Arthur slung his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. He smelt of expensive aftershave and his body was tight, warm, and Merlin had to take a deep breath to speak. 

“No. Just thought I’d let you greet your minions.” 

Arthur seemed far too happy about having the rest of the Sixth Form referred to that way, but Merlin knew it was all bullshit. Arthur leant in close enough Merlin could feel his breath on his neck and said, “I got your emails. They were funny, especially the one about Will.” 

Merlin could feel himself blushing. He’d tried to sound casual, nonchalant, like a lad just emailing another lad and telling him about his week. Only he realised by the end of the week he had emailed Arthur every single day, and twice on the day Will nearly burned his house down. 

Will had gone to a jumble sale the first weekend of half-term and bought a toasted sandwich maker. The sale was to raise money for the local fire brigade. He thought it switched itself off automatically, so after loading his with bread, cheese and peppers he went for a sit down in the ‘throne room’ but by the time he came out the whole of the downstairs was filled with smoke and Mrs. Losh from across the street had called 999. The firemen did not see the funny side. Merlin, however, had nearly split his sides laughing. 

They moved to sit down on the old sofa in the corner, which no one else seemed to like too much. Arthur released his hold, but he was still close, their shoulders and thighs touching. Merlin felt sweat prickle the back of his neck. 

“Did you have a good time? What was it like?” 

“You know: the usual. Morgana and I went clubbing half the night, slept half the day.” Arthur turned a little so he was facing Merlin. He looked softer round the edges, his eyes too impossibly blue against the slight tan he had acquired over the week. 

“I wouldn’t know; I’ve never been to Spain.” 

“It was nice.” 

The sun was shining through the large windows in bright stripes. One was burning into Merlin’s leg so that he wasn’t sure if it was that making him so hot, or whether it was his proximity to the most gorgeous boy he had ever had the good fortune to know, who simultaneously made him happy, jumpy, scared and all sorts of other dizziness-inducing things. 

Arthur took a deep breath. “I … I was wondering whether you still wanted to get together to do homework.” 

Merlin looked at him and grinned. Back to safe territory. “Sure.” 

“And, um, are you coming to my birthday party? You can bring Gwen … and Viv.” He dipped his head down and smirked up at Merlin. 

“Of course I am.” 

Arthur stretched and laid his arms across the back of the sofa. His fingers grazed the back of Merlin’s neck, winding and lingering in his hair just a second longer than would qualify as a mere accident of a touch. When Merlin didn’t flinch, but closed his eyes for an instant and spread his fingers so they brushed against Arthur’s thigh he heard Arthur’s breath catch. Even as the bell for fourth period went, and they had to get up and go, the memory of the moment tingled over his skin and sent a shiver down his spine. 

Okay, maybe there was something going on between them. 

~*~ 

Arthur’s house was exactly as Merlin had imagined: big and grand. There were a ton of cars parked outside and on the drive. When he, Viv and Gwen entered they discovered that Arthur’s party was more of a community function. There appeared to be a significant number of older people who didn’t look like family, some very fashionable people and a lot of teenagers, mostly from school. Arthur was mingling, his usual fake smile plastered over his face. Merlin wondered why on earth he would have such a lavish affair when he so clearly hated it. 

Then he met Arthur’s father. 

Uther Pendragon was a tall, strongly-built man. He was several inches taller than Arthur and used every inch of his height to assert his barely-concealed arrogance. There was, however, a tinge of sadness about his eyes, which reminded Merlin of Arthur. Like father, like son. 

It turned out most of the older people were business associates of Uther’s or family friends, come to congratulate Arthur on reaching adulthood. They were mainly milling about in the kitchen and the dining room, which had been arranged so that people could sit and talk and eat. The living room was dimmer and music blared from somewhere in the corner of the room. Most of the younger people were in there, talking in huddles, and making full use of the extensive supply of alcohol laid out on the counter in the kitchen. 

Viv poured herself a generous gin and tonic, Gwen was driving so she had a Coke, and Merlin decided to stick with a beer. Arthur found them a couple of times, and looked pleased to see them, but they barely exchanged more than pleasantries as he was constantly pulled this way and that by new arrivals bringing gifts, people wanting to take his photograph and shake his hand. 

The music got turned up in the living room, the lights turned down even dimmer. A few girls were dancing … and a few older men. Viv stuck her fingers down her throat at the sight then went back to the kitchen to get food while Merlin and Gwen hung back at the periphery, talking about nothing in particular. 

When Viv came back, endearingly tipsy, she beckoned Gwen over to dance with her. She’d got the ‘DJ’ (who Merlin thought might be a boy from school, but it was hard to tell in his civvies) to put on something slow and some of the men and boys seemed more than interested by the apparent show the two girls were putting on for them. Viv loved the attention, and swiveled her hips suggestively to many lewd sounds of approval. 

Merlin left them to it and slid through the hoards to look for Arthur. He was in the quiet and empty conservatory, sipping on a glass of champagne. He looked older, in dark blue jeans and a burgundy shirt, staring silent and still out into the darkness. Seen in profile, his jaw set, the thick line of his neck steady and firm and the strong curve of his shoulders flexing as he rested his elbows on his knees, he looked like he was carrying the weight of the world. 

Merlin stepped into his line of sight and said, “Having a good time?” 

“Not really.” Arthur smiled and shrugged, resigned. 

“I thought not. Here … I made you this.” Merlin had thought it a good idea at the time, making Arthur a CD. Now he felt a bit stupid and awkward. It was effectively a home-made gift, and this was Arthur’s eighteenth birthday. Merlin suddenly felt like he should have gone to a little more trouble to get Arthur something memorable. He was about to apologise. 

“Nice bag.” Arthur grinned at the shiny purple bag (the only one Merlin had been able to find in the house, because he hadn’t thought about a card and wrapping paper; his mum usually took care of that stuff) and pulled out the CD. “Thanks. Shall we go listen to it?” 

“What about the party?” 

“No one will miss us for half an hour. But we’ll have to make a sneaky dash for it.” He winked mischievously. 

Arthur had definitely perked up as he jumped up from his seat, sidled along the hallway and bolted up the stairs. Merlin was hot on his heels as they weaved through the smattering of guests and went into the room at the end of the landing. For such a fancy house, Arthur’s room was decidedly plain. No posters and everything obsessively neat. There was barely even a wrinkle on the bed. He turned on a small desk light, and pointed it towards the wall so the room was softly lit, giving a cool blue sheen to everything. 

“You look better in your own clothes.” Arthur ran his hand fleetingly down the blue checked shirt Merlin had shucked on over a long-sleeved black t-shirt. His mum had bought him new jeans. Viv had wolf-whistled when they met at the station, but it wasn’t the same as having Arthur say it, look it. Merlin had never felt attractive before and he’d tried not to care, but he couldn’t deny the thousand butterflies that had fluttered up from his stomach and into his chest, catching his breath and making his heart pound. 

Arthur opened the CD and put it in a portable player on his desk then he scanned down the playlist. “l’m not sure I know half of this stuff.” He didn’t sound disappointed, just curious. 

“It’s just a selection of things I thought you might like. Some of it’s older … stuff my mum listened to and some of it’s newish.” 

Arthur handled the cover of the CD, turning it in his hands, not really reading it, just feeling it. “I thought you might be wary of me.” 

“What? Why?” 

“After what happened … after I hurt you.” 

“That was ages ago. What made you think that?” 

“You just seemed off this week … like you didn’t want to … I don’t know. I’m not very good at this.” 

“Arthur …” Merlin swallowed hard, forcing down the doubts of the last few weeks as they seemed to dissolve like candy-floss on his tongue. “Happy birthday. Do you want a birthday kiss?” 

“Yes, I do.” 

Merlin leaned in tentatively, the sound of an electric guitar curling into the background, and pressed his mouth against Arthur’s. His lips were full and moist and he yielded at once to the sweep of Merlin’s tongue. Merlin ran his tongue across Arthur’s lips, felt the warm slip-slide of Arthur’s tongue against his; explored this new feeling, testing the waters. Arthur’s hands came to rest on Merlin’s hips and with them came a more urgent kind of delving with his tongue and the feeling Merlin was being swept away by this was at once so overwhelming, so absolutely fucking brilliant he had to put his arms round Arthur’s neck and hold on for dear life. The kissing went on and on: wet, messy and loud as both of them just went with it. Merlin was enjoying every second. 

Arthur pulled back first, eyes wild and bright, grinning from ear to ear, just like Merlin. “That’s officially the best birthday kiss I’ve ever had.” 

“It makes up for the shabby gift.” 

“The gift’s about the best thing, too … apart from the new car.” Arthur pecked Merlin on the cheek then moved them to sit on the bed. 

Merlin sat back until he was all the way onto the mattress and unexpectedly Arthur crawled into the space between his legs and leaned into his chest. Merlin could feel his breathing heavy and sharp; it made him shiver with anticipation. Wrapping his arm around Arthur’s waist Merlin used his other hand to cup Arthur’s jaw and kiss him again softly. Arthur sniggered. 

“What?” Merlin wondered if he’d done something, because for once, he was sure this time he was getting it right. 

“Did you see Morgana’s friend, Geoffrey?” 

“The bloke with the purple cords on?” They both sniggered. “Yes. Is he her boyfriend?” 

“I hope not, unless she has a cock she’s not telling me about. No, he’s one of her model friends. She couldn’t just come here for my birthday alone, she had to bring someone.” Arthur curled in tighter and sighed. 

Merlin wound his fingers into Arthur’s hair, at once so comfortable with him in his arms it was like he’d never had to get by just imagining it. “Morgana’s your half-sister?” 

“Yes. Different mother.” 

“So your father’s been married twice?” 

“Yes.” Arthur huffed a laugh. “He said Morgana was the only good thing to come out of his first marriage.” 

“What about your mum; she was his second wife?” 

“She was the love of his life, his soulmate. But she died when she had me, which is probably why half the time he can’t stand to look at me.” Merlin wondered how long, how much Arthur had wanted to get that off his chest. He seemed to sag with the weight of it. 

“That’s not true, surely?” 

“Isn’t it Merlin? And what would you know?” 

“I don’t … sorry.” 

“I know.” Arthur curled into his neck, his hot breath fuel to the heat already prickling Merlin's skin. 

He prised Arthur’s face from his shoulder. Arthur looked sad. “Hey … you okay?” 

“Yes.” Arthur kissed him again then pushed him down against the pillows. Merlin was suddenly breathless with Arthur on top of him kissing him urgently, like there was no tomorrow. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips up into him, countering the pressure and friction of Arthur grinding his hips into him. He tangled his fingers through Arthur’s hair, grappled at his shirt, moaned without inhibition with the feeling. His cock had never before got so hard, so fast. 

Then Arthur moved to his jaw, sucked lewdly against the skin there and on his neck until Merlin was gasping, running his hands over Arthur’s back, thinking, skin, I want to feel his skin. He started pull at Arthur’s shirt when … the door opened. 

Arthur pulled back, face scarlet. Merlin froze. Uther stood in the doorway, austere and cold. 

“Arthur, some of your guests are waiting to leave.” 

“Um, okay, I’m just coming,” he said quickly. 

Merlin would have smirked, but the tension that ripped through Arthur’s body the second his father appeared was more than embarrassment. When Merlin looked in his eyes he saw... terror. 

Uther turned and went back down the stairs without another word. 

“Shit. Shit.” Merlin scrubbed his face and ran his fingers through his hair. Didn’t Uther even think to knock? 

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Arthur looked down at him tenderly. 

“Is it? I mean … I know my mum would be fine … it’s just …” Things were very different in the Pendragon household; he could see that now. Arthur didn’t get a say in anything; he had to do as he was told without question and that was that. At that moment his heart swelled, throbbing with hurt for Arthur, and the nagging fear of what might happen if Arthur ever disobeyed or disappointed his father. 

“Yes, it really is. I’d better get downstairs.” Arthur climbed off Merlin and adjusted himself, throwing Merlin an apologetic grin as he raised his eyebrows. “Maybe I should just wait for things to go down a bit.” 

“Me too.” Merlin tried to smile back reassuringly as Arthur leaned over him, grabbed him round the neck and pulled him in for another kiss. 

~*~ 

The Monday after his party Arthur didn’t come to school. Merlin texted him, but he got no reply. He called him and emailed him: nothing. He had apparently put a call into the office with a vague message he was sick, but nothing else. Merlin decided to pop to his house to see how he was after school, but there was no answer when he knocked on the door. Arthur’s new car wasn’t there, either. 

Merlin had the feeling something was awry, but he couldn’t get hold of Arthur, and his messages went unanswered. He wondered if Arthur had, in fact, got into trouble over their kiss, or if Arthur had changed his mind. Neither prospect sat well in his gut, and he could barely sleep that night for worrying about it. 

Tuesday morning, however, Arthur was already in the Common Room when Merlin got to school. He was slumped in a corner of the room giving off a definite vibe of don’t come near me. Merlin went straight over and sat down next to him. He didn’t care what anyone thought; he took Arthur’s face in his hand and said, “What happened? Have you been in a fight? You look like shit.” 

“You could say that, although I didn’t fight back.” Arthur’s voice was cracked and slurred as he went on. “I always thought if I didn’t fight back then he would stop. But it’s okay; I brought pain killers.” He opened his blazer to reveal a half-bottle of Jack Daniels in his inside pocket. Half of it was gone. He dropped his head on Merlin’s shoulder, panting shallow and fast as Merlin was assaulted by the acrid, sickly smell of alcohol thick on his breath. 

The wave of panic that washed through Merlin at that very moment would stay with him for a long time: the sudden realisation that the natural order of the world was now upside down, inverted, wrong. As he grasped Arthur by the shoulders and pushed him up he could see the vicious, purple blotches of finger marks on the side of his neck. Just moving Arthur had made him wince and the defeat in his eyes told Merlin all he needed to know. 

Merlin had to swallow down the bile and blink back the tears. “Your dad did this to you.” 

“Shhh, Merlin. Don’t tell everyone,” he mumbled. 

“Alright. Alright.” Merlin took a steadying breath. “Arthur, look at me. What have you taken?” 

Arthur’s gaze was hazy and unfocused. He frowned and blinked and barely seemed able to hold his head up. 

Just then Gwen came in. She spotted the two of them and started to come over with a cheery smile, then stopped dead in her tracks, clamped her hand to her mouth and gasped. Then she was there, at Arthur’s feet. “Oh my God, what …?” 

“It was his dad, Gwen,” Merlin whispered frantically. 

“Merlin, we have to get him out of here.” 

Merlin turned to Arthur, holding his jaw, willing him to respond coherently enough they could get some sense from this. “Arthur, please tell me you didn’t drive to school.” 

“Don’t be silly, Merlin, I’m drunk and my father has taken my car away.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “So I don’t try to escape. But I climbed out the window and here I am.” 

He looked pale and pitiful. As they lifted him to his feet, his whole body shaking, Merlin noticed his school bag and a bigger duffel bag next to him on the chair. He wondered if Arthur had thought about where he would go, if he had decided where he was going to run away to. Merlin didn’t need to think twice about where he was going to take him. 

“Gwen, can you drive us back to my house?” 

“Of course.” 

“You take his bags, I’ll help him. Are you parked round the back?” 

“Yes, thank goodness. Usually I park over by the labs.” Gwen slung on Arthur’s bags and leaned into Arthur, stroking his cheek. Then Merlin took his arm and pulled it round his shoulder while Arthur stumbled to his feet. 

“Ouch … that hurts,” Arthur said groggily, so wretchedly Merlin had to take a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll walk slowly, alright? We just have to make it to Gwen’s car.” 

They ignored the rules and went straight out of the fire exit and round the edge of the school to the car park, trying to avoid the influx of morning arrivals. Strangely, it was as though they were invisible. No one seemed to notice Arthur was a beaten up mess, no one looked or stared or said, “Hey, what happened to that boy?” 

Merlin sat in the back with Arthur while Gwen had his bags on the front seat. He held Arthur gently in his arms and felt him slowly drifting, melting into his embrace. His face was clammy, his hair stuck in damp strips across his forehead. Merlin pushed them away, kissed him and whispered everything was going to be alright, because he really needed to hear it. 

Arthur clung white-knuckled to Merlin’s shirt the whole car ride home. 

Merlin asked him gently, “Arthur, have you smoked any dope this morning?” 

He seemed calmer now; drunk but like he understood what was going on. “No. I ran out last night.” 

“How much did you have last night?” 

“I _don’t know_ , Merlin,” he whined softly. “Shhh now. My head hurts.” 

Merlin tilted his face back, and begged him. “Arthur, please I need to know. What about tablets? Did you have any paracetamol?” 

“No, Merlin. You know that’s not allowed.” 

The street was empty enough that Gwen was able to park outside the front of Merlin’s house. He handed her the keys and said, “My mum might still be home. Knock first.” 

Arthur had closed his eyes and his breath shuddered shallow and fast, like a child who’d cried for too long. 

“Arthur, you need to stay awake, just a bit longer.” He was a dead weight, and neither Merlin nor Gwen could have got him inside or up the stairs by themselves. Hunith wasn’t there, but between them they managed to help Arthur onto Merlin’s bed. 

Arthur curled onto one side and closed his eyes, then buried his face in Merlin’s pillow. He looked like he was crying. 

Gwen pulled Merlin out onto the landing. “I should go. I’ll be back in time for second period. Do you think I should tell Mrs. Bloom?” 

“Could you get her to call me? I think she might know about this, I think she hinted about it.” Merlin could hear the edge to his own voice, the dark, creeping edge of panic he was just about keeping at bay by looking at Arthur sobbing quietly into his pillow. He had to keep calm. 

“You going to be okay?” Gwen put her hand on his arm. 

“Yeah, fine. My mum’s not supposed to be working until twelve today. She’s probably just gone to the shops. It’ll be okay, Gwen. Call me later?” 

They hugged and as she pulled back Merlin saw her eyes wet with tears when she said, “How did we not see this, Merlin?” 

“I don’t know, Gwen. I don’t know.” 

~*~

When Merlin went back into his room Arthur was still awake; tear-stained and drowsy but conscious, at least, and curled like a foetus. Merlin knelt at the edge of the bed and pushed Arthur’s fringe back from his face, kissed his cheeks, the salty taste of his tears spreading sorrow over Merlin’s lips. He took Arthur’s hand, gently brushed his knuckles with his thumb. 

“Do you feel sick?” 

“No.” 

Merlin asked, warily, “Was this because he caught us kissing?” 

“No,” Arthur half laughed. “He already knows about _that_. This happened on Sunday when I told him I’d applied to UCL to do English and that I’m not going to LSE.” 

“Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to get you.” 

Arthur sighed, heaved out slowly, concentrating on enunciating every laboured word. “I didn’t want … I’m sorry I dragged you into this.” He gripped Merlin’s hand, his eyes desperate and wild. “Next time I’m going to beat the living shit out of him … see how he likes it.” 

“There won’t be a next time.” It took everything Merlin had to be what his mum said he was: strong, a good friend, to not break down and weep. 

Arthur whispered hoarsely, “There’s always a next time. You sure you’re still interested in damaged goods?” 

“Between you and me, I still think you’re perfect. But don’t tell anyone.” Merlin kissed him again and said, “I’m going to get you a glass of water then maybe you should get some sleep.” 

~*~ 

After settling Arthur under his duvet Merlin did the only thing he could think of doing: he called his mum. She was probably just out shopping before she went to work. 

“Mum, it’s me. Where are you?” 

“Tesco’s. Why are you at home? I thought you went to school this morning.” 

“I did.” His voice broke as he tried to hold back a sob. 

“What’s wrong? Are you ill? What’s happened?” 

“No, I’m OK. I just need you here. Will you be long?” 

“Half an hour tops. I’m in the queue right now. Will you be all right until then?” 

“Yes. And mum …” 

“What, sweetheart?” 

“I love you.” 

“I love you, too, but you’re scaring me now.” 

“It’s OK. I just need you to come home.” 

“All right. I’m going as fast as I can.” 

Merlin hadn’t dared to look under Arthur’s shirt, hadn’t dared ask him, for fear that what he’d see there would be exactly as he expected. So he had tucked the duvet around him with tender care, fully clothed except for his tie, shoes and blazer, and let him drift off into a restless slumber. 

~*~ 

Merlin heard the front door open and close, his mum calling, her footsteps on the stairs. Then she was there in his open doorway, eyes flashing with surprise as she saw Merlin cradling Arthur’s head in his lap. As he saw her, the panic he had kept at bay swelled into a surge of relief; his mum would know what to do. 

“Is this Arthur?” she said softly. 

“Yes.” Merlin beckoned her closer and gently lifted the collar of Arthur’s shirt to show the angry bruises on his neck. 

Hunith knelt down by the side of the bed, carefully pushing the fabric further back. “What happened?” 

“His dad beat him, on Sunday. I think he hurt his ribs, he’s in a lot of pain.” 

“We have to wake him, love.” 

“I know.” He gently roused him, and it was with blinking, uncertain eyes Arthur saw Hunith for the first time. Merlin could smell the alcohol on him so there was no doubt his mum could, too. Still, she smiled warmly at Arthur and as he awoke he stayed calm and just laid there looking at her. 

She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder and said, “Arthur, love, I’m Hunith, Merlin’s mum. I know you don’t feel good, but I need to see where you’re hurt.” 

Arthur nodded then said quietly, “I knew you’d be nice.” 

His voice was still rough, his eyes watery. If his breath hadn’t already given away the fact he was intoxicated, his lack of focus should have. Hunith was no fool, so it didn’t come as a surprise when she looked at Merlin and said, “Do you know what he’s taken?” 

“He said just dope last night and whisky this morning.” 

“Food?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

What happened next was like watching the heavens open. In a flurry of quick hands and soothing words Hunith stripped Arthur to the waist then had him sit on the edge of the bed. The whole time Arthur never said a word, though he was compliant. He looked … not embarrassed, ashamed or afraid, but relieved. This was all credit to his mum – Merlin knew that much. 

Seeing the awful state of Arthur’s torso slowly revealed like a horror story unfolding, the visible testament to his grimaces of pain, Merlin thought he might throw up. Hunith must have seen because she ordered him out of the room to run Arthur a bath and make him some tea and toast. 

All the times growing up Merlin had wished for a father, it now seemed ironic, perverse even. Having watched his mum carefully peeling off Arthur’s clothes, layer by layer, as she swallowed hard and blinked back her own tears, Merlin knew there was a strength in her most men could never nearly muster. It also dawned on him, right then, the blanket of love and protection she had swathed him in his whole life was big enough for him and Arthur. If he had ever had to think about this, he never would have doubted it, but he'd never had to before today. 

When Merlin returned to his room with the tea and toast, Arthur was lying on his stomach while Hunith felt his ribs and listened to him breathe. There were deep finger-marks on his neck, and across his back were two fresh bruises of a similar shape to the one Merlin had seen weeks before across the back of his thighs: long, purple welts with a straight edge. With alarm, Merlin suddenly recalled an umbrella stand full of walking sticks in the hallway of Arthur’s house, and felt the nausea return at the possibility Uther had used one of those as a weapon to beat his son, and had had no compunction at leaving them out for everyone to see. 

There was a mess of other bruises haphazardly staining the golden skin of Arthur’s back and arms. A few looked older; faded shades of yellow and brown. But most of the bruises Merlin could see looked new; vivid, angry and tender. 

Those marks told a sad and painful story - maybe not the kind that would make the newspapers, but one that would haunt Merlin for a long time to come. At first, Merlin had thought Arthur had done a good job hiding the abuse but now he thought about it, he’d only really been good at hiding the bruises. After that … it was confusing. This was one puzzle Merlin hadn’t been able to figure out for himself, at least not until Arthur had pretty much thrown the answer in his face. 

Once she had finished checking Arthur over and helped him to sit up, Hunith gave Arthur arnica tablets and said, “These will help with the pain and take the swelling down. Once you’ve had a bath we’ll get some cream on all those bruises.” 

Merlin sat at the end of the bed, feeling like a spare part in his own room. He passed Arthur the mug and plate. 

Arthur looked shy, looked down at his food as he said, “Thank you, Mrs. Emrys.” 

“It’s Hunith. Now, I have to make some calls, but I want you to understand you’re safe here, okay?” 

“Who are you going to phone?” Merlin watched Arthur’s clench on his mug tighten, the muscle in his jaw flexing manically. 

“The school, for starters.” She took a breath and added, “Arthur, I have to ask you … do you want to press charges? Because this really is a matter for the police, and they need to be informed.” 

“No! No. My dad would lose everything if this came out. His business is already suffering with the economy as it is.” 

“All right, it’s up to you. But we do need to get this documented. I have a solicitor friend in the village … I’m going to call her.” Hunith paused then said, “You can stay here. If you want someone to go to your house and get your stuff …” 

Arthur looked away weary and wretched, and nodded. He looked like he’d had enough. 

“We’ll talk about this later. Get him in the bath, Merlin then lend him some of your pyjamas.” 

Hunith headed downstairs to get the phone. Merlin followed her, caught her arm at the top of the stairs and said softly, “Mum, I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.” 

She cupped his face in her hands and said sincerely, “You did the right thing. Now once I’ve made these calls I have to get to work; I’ve got someone coming in at twelve. Once I leave you lock the door and don’t open it for anyone, you hear?” 

“Yes, Mum.” 

“If there’s any trouble, call the police. Arthur needs to sleep off the alcohol. If he needs it, in a few hours you can give him three paracetamol. While I’m out if he pisses blood, gets more incoherent or if you’re just not sure call for an ambulance. I’ll keep my phone on all afternoon. Now go help him get in the bath because the last thing he needs is to pass out and drown.” 

~*~ 

It was awkward going back to his room, but worse for Arthur, so Merlin took a deep breath and decided he would try to be as matter-of-fact as possible. 

Merlin took just one step into his room and said, “Are you ready?” Arthur still looked out of it, so Merlin held out his hand. 

“I can manage.” 

“I know. I’ll just sit outside the door then you can let me know if you need any help. Okay?” 

Arthur left bathroom door ajar, but Merlin didn’t go in. After a couple of minutes he heard the splash of the water and slide of Arthur lowering himself down. “Are you all right in there?” 

“Yes,” came the unsteady reply. 

 

As Merlin waited outside the bathroom, sat on the floor on the landing, he could hear his mum talking to the school office. “No, both boys will be out today. Arthur will probably be off the rest of this week, and Merlin might be back tomorrow.” 

She’d barely put the phone down when it rang. There were lots of ‘yes’s’ and ‘I see’s’ but nothing of substance until Hunith’s voice got sharper as she said, “I really don’t care what the school’s position is, Mrs. Bloom. Social Services are hard-pushed to protect malnourished toddlers whose parents see fit to smash their tiny skulls into the ceiling. Arthur is no longer a minor, and quite frankly, I don’t think they are going to see an eighteen year old with a few bruises as a follow-up case. Arthur won’t fall under Child Services anymore so good luck calling his old social worker because a fat lot of good that’s going to do.” There were a few more ‘yes’s’, a ‘no’ and then, “You’re more than welcome to visit later this week. Right now he needs some rest. You can send him work back with Merlin, and if you could inform the rest of his teachers that would be a big help.” 

Merlin grinned to himself. No one messed with his mum. 

~*~ 

Arthur was sound asleep, curled up in Merlin’s bed, before Hunith left for work. Merlin found her in the living room putting a duvet on the sofa. 

“If he wants to watch some telly it’ll be more comfortable to lie on this.” 

Merlin nodded miserably and once she looked at him that way, with her head tilted to one side, a sympathetic frown and her arms held out for him, he knew he couldn’t hold it back any longer. He collapsed in Hunith’s arms and cried until his head throbbed, his chest hurt and his body shook with horror, grief and utter disbelief at what had happened. 

She held him tightly and said nothing, letting the tears and sobs work their way out in wracking, heaving shudders until Merlin was completely cried out. 

The house was quiet, except for the clock ticking in the hall. Hunith spoke softly. “I have to go. This one’s going to take all afternoon.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“An eagle, on this bloke’s back. You saw it; the pattern was on the dining table over the weekend.” 

“Take a picture, when it’s done?” 

“Sure.” 

“Do you want me to make dinner?” 

“That would be nice. You might need to run over to Mick’s and get another chop. There’s money in the kitchen drawer.” 

“Okay.” 

Hunith sighed, looked away then back at Merlin, her eyes ablaze with love. “I wish it hadn’t been this way … but well done, baby. Today you became a man.” 

~*~ 

In the week that followed, it felt like Merlin was standing at the centre of a tornado while the entire world spun around him in a blur of hushed voices, shut doors, angry phone calls and a steady in and out of strangers, some in uniform, some not. Hunith had taken time off work to stay home with Arthur, but Merlin was sent back to school. 

It was strange and frightening, the way things had taken off. Arthur didn’t want to talk about anything of what was going on when Merlin came home, unsurprisingly, and Hunith said they needed to respect his privacy. Merlin felt shut out, helpless, useless. 

Merlin skirted around the sidelines of what used to be just his and his mum’s home, hoping for a glimpse of Arthur: the Arthur with the arrogant jaw, the glint of wickedness that was really mischief, the soft and serious boy. In the evening, after dinner and homework Arthur curled up next to Merlin in front of the television and held his hand. Merlin knew the images and sounds of the voices on the screen were just gliding over him and that underneath his skin the hurt was prickling like white noise, making everything else incomprehensible. Merlin knew because he felt it seeping into him every time Arthur was near, like osmosis. 

In the night, Merlin heard Arthur get up and get a glass of water. He heard him stop outside his door and prayed Arthur would come in and just talk to him, but he was too afraid to call out, to make the demand in case Arthur felt he was beholden, after what they were doing for him. So Merlin lay silent and guilty and hated himself for being a coward. 

In the morning, Arthur slept in. Merlin knocked on the door, went in and sat gingerly at the end of the bed. 

“Arthur, I’m leaving in a few minutes. Is there anything you want from school?” 

Arthur looked at him, blinking back sleep and smiled. “Tell Gwen to copy her notes for me? … I can’t read Viv’s hand-writing.” 

“Sure. 

Arthur stretched without flinching. It looked like the colour was coming back into his cheeks. Certainly, he sounded better. Still, he said with hesitancy, “Yesterday your mum said she needs to pop into work today, but that she’d wait until you got home this afternoon. Will you tell her I’m okay if she wants to go beforehand? I won’t slit my wrists or run off to join the circus.” 

“Or steal the family jewels.” Merlin was happy his smile was returned; hopeful. 

Arthur sat up, pushed back his hair and said with a glint in his eye, “How is it that your mum is so unconventional … you know, tattoo artist by day, clubber by night … yet she spawned you?” 

“I’ll try not to be too offended by that.” Merlin frowned and squeezed Arthur’s calf through the covers, then added seriously, “We don’t necessarily end up like our parents, Arthur.” 

~*~ 

At school things were better. At first, Merlin hadn’t wanted to go, hadn’t wanted to leave Arthur, but the atmosphere at home was sometimes so oppressive it was a welcome escape just to ride the train, watch the world go by blissfully unaware. 

Mrs. Bloom and a few of their other teachers had been kind, concerned. They sent Merlin home with work, but said it didn’t matter, it could wait. 

Gwen and Viv were like rocks. Well, Gwen was like a rock. Viv was more like a dangly rope, but she wrapped herself around him tight and with the two of them, and Ben and Amanda, he felt like he was hanging on. 

Merlin confided in Gwen. 

“Most days when I get home he’s either reading or listening to music in the spare room or on the sofa, or he’s out at some meeting or other. No one tells me anything.” 

“What’s happening between the two of you?” 

“Nothing right now. My mum said I need to give him space to sort things out. His sister’s coming down this weekend. Mum said she’s going to pick up Arthur’s things and bring them to our house.” 

“I think you’re handling this pretty well, all things considered. If you need to get some air, you can always come over.” 

“Thanks. Mum’s working Saturday so I’m going over to Will’s … so that Arthur and his sister can talk things over.” 

Gwen hugged him tightly and all through Chemistry she didn’t complain once, even when he dripped sulphuric acid on her pink, fluffy pencil case and melted the corner off. 

~*~ 

That Saturday, Morgana arrived outside their house in a dark green Range Rover, filled with boxes and a suitcase. Merlin wondered where exactly they were going to put Arthur’s stuff, but there was no question of him going back home, so he said nothing and determined that they would make it all fit. 

Morgana looked fierce and glamorous, like a cat-walk super-hero, her emerald green coat flapping out behind her in the wind as she, Arthur and Merlin carried the boxes into the dining room. Inside the house, Hunith made tea then she left for work. 

“You don’t need to go, Merlin,” Morgana had said warmly, stroking his cheek. 

“I promised my friend Will I’d go over. His mum’s out for the day and she won’t let him cook without someone else in the house, since he almost burnt it down last time.” 

She laughed, all sparkling white teeth and flashing green eyes and Merlin thought she might be about the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. So he stayed awhile and made sure they had everything they needed before walking the mile to Will’s house on a bright, blustery autumn morning. 

The wind was blowing in with the tide. Merlin could see it nudging up the shingle as he took the shortcut to Will’s along the coast path. He stopped on the way, threw a few pebbles and felt the cold rush of the changing season whip through his jacket and claw at his bones. The horizon was a perfect curve, interrupted only by Thorney Island and a few sailing boats taking advantage of the wind and the current. 

Merlin loved this place, loved the expanse of sea and sky. It helped him think, helped him de-clutter. His Nan had said it was the ozone, but he knew that was rubbish. It was no good telling her, though: AS in Biology and Chemistry, or not. She said she was too old to change, too set in her ways to accept things could be different to how they were and always had been. Merlin hoped he would never ever think that way. 

Will’s house was two streets back from the coast. Merlin knew it as well as his own house (including, now, the treasures under the bed) and even had his own duvet, tucked into the top of the airing cupboard for those nights he wasn’t up to walking home. He thought of it now, as he strode up the garden path and rang the doorbell. 

Meredith opened the door and gave him a hug. “Wish me luck!” 

Merlin looked at her, puzzled. Then she pointed to her boobs. “Oh, good luck. Hope they come out … erm … nice … and big.” Merlin blushed and wondered if he’d ever be able to look her in the face again. 

“See, Will, Merlin appreciates the beauty in the fuller breast.” Merlin ducked past her towards the kitchen, almost tripping over her overnight bag on his way. 

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Will smirked from behind her. 

They spent the rest of the day playing on the Wii and watching the X-Men films for the umpteenth time. Will made a ropey Shepherd’s pie in the afternoon and Merlin thought about going home. 

“You alright? You look wiped out.” 

Merlin was tired. He stretched out on the sofa and said, “Knackered. Mind if I shut my eyes for ten minutes before I head off?” 

“Nah, I was thinking about doing the same thing myself.” 

Will retrieved Merlin’s duvet and slung it over him. He wrapped himself up, reveling in the soft, worn feel of it and closing his eyes to the fact it was a Power Rangers duvet cover. The pull of sleep came fast and Merlin gave into it, hoping that when he woke he would be able to go home and help Arthur unpack. He tried not to think about them; he’d lost enough sleep over that already. 

Merlin awoke to the sound and vibration of his mobile phone. It was dark outside. 

“Merlin, it’s mum. When are you coming home?” 

“What time is it?” 

“Seven.” 

“What? Shit … I fell asleep.” 

“Well, I’m going out in half an hour. You should really be here …” 

“I know, I know. Sorry. I’m coming home now.” 

Merlin ran up the stairs to see Will crashed out face down on his bed. He gave him a shake and a kiss good-bye before he left. 

~*~ 

The run home had cleared away the afternoon-nap cobwebs and left Merlin breathless and hot by the time he got through the front door. Hunith was dressed for a night out. 

“Don’t wait up for me. I’m going to Tiger Tiger with Cara and Ali.” 

“Have fun, you dirty stop out.” 

“You, too.” She gave him a wink. “Arthur’s upstairs. He’s been asking what time you’d be home since his sister left. Go put him out of his misery.” 

A taxi honked its horn out on the street and she was gone in a billow of black velvet and sweet perfume.  
Merlin went up to the spare room. The door was open, Arthur lying on the bed with his headphones on and his eyes closed. 

He knocked loud enough that Arthur would hear, then went in and touched his leg. “Hey. Mind if I come in?” 

“No.” 

Arthur sat up looking genuinely pleased to see him, although he hugged his knees and patted the space next to him. 

“Sorry I’m back so late; I fell asleep at Will’s. What time did Morgana leave?” 

“Around five. She had to get back to London; working tomorrow.” He paused. “She wants me to go and live there, with her.” 

“No!” The word came out before Merlin had had time to censor it. “I mean … “ 

Arthur moved down the bed, slid his hand round the back of Merlin’s neck and said, “That’s kind of the reaction I was hoping for.” 

“Really?” 

“I missed you this week.” 

“I was here, I wanted to be here, but there was so much else going on and everyone was telling me I have to give you space and not pressure you into anything … and you’ve been so tired and you didn’t look like you wanted me bothering you. Sorry. I missed you, too.” The words tumbled out and scattered into the air between them, filling up the empty space and sending out tendrils of hope, coiling around them, pulling them together. 

“Am I off limits now?” Arthur asked teasingly. 

“I don’t know. Are you?” Merlin curled his fingers around Arthur’s wrist. It was warm and he could feel the flutter of his pulse beneath his fingers, strong and alive. 

“Not according to me.” 

“Good.” Merlin leaned in and kissed him with a lingering press of his lips, more reassurance than caress. 

Arthur pulled him down on top of him, ran his hands down Merlin’s back, more like he was reminding himself Merlin was still there. They hadn’t changed. 

The mattress was thin and lumpy: Merlin could feel a spring digging into his knee. “I don’t know how you sleep on this bed. It’s horrible.” 

“I sleep just fine.” Arthur paused then said, “He used to do it in the night; try to get me by surprise when I was sleeping. I suppose he’d have all evening to work himself up. That’s mostly since I got bigger.” 

“How did you ever sleep at all?” Merlin bit back the sudden surge of anger and indignation at what had happened and the shock that Arthur was telling him this, after all the silence. But Arthur’s week had been very different to Merlin’s and it seemed like, without preamble, they were both ready for whatever was coming next. 

“It wasn’t all the time. He’s not a monster. I know you think he is. It’s just when things get out of his control, or when things go wrong, he gets angry.” 

“But he shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“I know.” 

Looking at Arthur now, looking up at him, Merlin felt for the first time it was just them, nothing in the way, nothing holding them back. It calmed his nerves and fired them at the same time, and he had to remember to breathe. Arthur was so beautiful, so sweet when he was like this, just opening slowly like petals. Merlin couldn’t get enough, couldn’t take him all in. He could try: try to learn every line and curve, every colour of him. The way his eyes were a darker blue in the morning than they were in the day, the subtle shades of gold and blonde and brown that made up every hair on his head. Merlin could spend all day just looking, learning it all and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

He must have been staring too long, as Arthur quirked his eyebrows and said, “What?” 

Merlin saw the wires from the head phones tangled over the pillow. “What were you listening to?” 

“The playlist you made me.” Arthur grinned. “You should have called it 'Music To Get Stoned To.'” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Merlin brushed his lips against the line of Arthur’s jaw, breathed in the warmth of him and felt himself getting hard. 

Arthur bunched the spare fabric of Merlin’s jeans in his fists and pushed his hips upwards; he was hard, too. “All that heavy electric guitar, big on the bass and the drum beats. Honestly, Merlin.” 

“I did you another one this week.” 

“Why didn’t you give it to me?” 

“It’s a bit soppy. It was … you know … I was just feeling …” 

“It’s all right: just admit it, you can be a bit girly.” Arthur released his grip on Merlin’s jeans and stroked down the back of his neck, making him shiver. 

“No. Boys can be in love, too.” 

Arthur paused, caressed Merlin’s cheek. He said tenderly, “Yeah, they can. I was just teasing.” 

“About that … you won’t do it anymore, will you?” Merlin had promised himself he wouldn’t bring it up yet, that he shouldn’t or that he might not need to, but the words just tumbled out like they sometimes had a habit of doing. 

“Tease you?” 

“Not me, other people. It’s not nice on you, it’s not you.” 

“If it makes you happy.” 

“Yeah, it would.” And if Arthur needed an out so as not to lose face then Merlin could live with that. He knew this was a big deal for Arthur. “Do you want to hear it then?” 

“Will I be overcome with emotion?” 

“I hope so,” Merlin grinned. 

“Then you’d better put it on.” 

“We’ll have to go in my room. But the bed’s bigger.” 

Arthur needed no more persuasion as he virtually lifted Merlin off him and didn’t even let go of his shirt as they crossed the landing to Merlin’s room. 

Merlin put in the CD as Arthur said, “Can I see it? The tattoo your mum did for you.” 

“She told you?” 

“Yes.” 

The music started low in the background, the soft, thrumming dance of fingers over a keyboard and electric guitar strings, the man’s voice coaxing out a gentle melody: I will possess your heart. 

Merlin lifted his shirt and t-shirt over his head in one movement, and turned so his back was to Arthur. 

“It’s amazing.” With one hand resting on Merlin’s shoulder, Arthur traced his fingers lightly over Merlin’s shoulder blade. He was following the wingspan of a bird of prey soaring over the expanse of Merlin’s right shoulder. 

“It’s a merlin, hence my name.” 

“The colours … they’re electric.” 

Merlin had committed to memory the vivid hues of its blue and green feathers, bright and almost iridescent against his milk-white skin. Hunith said it was her best work and Jim, at the studio, had framed a picture of it and hung it in the shop front. 

Merlin shivered as Arthur trailed his hand over and over his inked skin then moved to lightly caress the bumps of his spine. He leaned in and kissed Merlin soft, breathy and open-mouthed on the back of his neck. 

Too long waiting, always on the cusp and never near enough, Merlin wanted Arthur so much. He turned and said, “Lie down.” 

Merlin undid the button on his jeans, no longer shy, too filled with desire to even think on it. He prowled over Arthur’s legs, straddled them and pressed his mouth to the swelling at Arthur’s groin. 

“Trust me?” he urged softly as he pushed up the fabric of Arthur’s sweatshirt and vest. 

It seemed he might flinch, resist, and Merlin would never force him, but he had to let him know how much he wanted him, adored him with every breath in his body. So Merlin bent down and kissed along the stripe of bared flesh lightly covered with hair, coarse over the warmth and smoothness of the golden skin beneath it. “Every inch of you, Arthur. I’m going to kiss every inch.” 

Arthur gasped. “Wait.” He propped himself up on his elbows, looked at Merlin wide-eyed and fearful. “Start with my mouth?” 

Merlin crawled up the bed alongside him and cradled his face in his hands. “Anything you want. I’ll do anything you want.” 

The way that Arthur moaned into his mouth as they kissed, shot waves of pleasure straight to Merlin’s cock. He pressed and rutted his hips against Arthur’s, ever more desperate for contact with more of his skin. He tentatively played with the hem of Arthur’s top, curling his fingers into the waistband of his jeans and running his fingers along the waistband of Arthur’s boxers. 

The tease of tongues and fingers stretched on, playing out a prelude much longer than Merlin thought he could stand, but this was up to Arthur and he had to be patient, had to slow his racing mind and try to ignore the throb of want between his thighs. Merlin lifted his head to look at him and Arthur looked back, totally wrecked, his mouth inflamed and glistening, his eyes still so blue; all fire and ice. 

Gently, Merlin dipped his head back down and laid fleeting kisses along the line of Arthur’s jaw, down the line of tendon in his neck, grazing the now faded bruises that showed above his neckline. Arthur tensed. 

“Does that hurt?” Merlin whispered. 

“No.” 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No. I just … I’m not … I’ve never …” 

“Me neither. Let’s just see how it goes?” 

“Alright. Just let me …” 

Arthur pushed himself up and took off his sweatshirt and vest together. The only bruises starkly showing on his back now were the two he got the weekend before, but even they had faded. Merlin barely got a glimpse, as Arthur laid back down as soon as he was undressed. 

Merlin looked down at him, scanned the skin he had longed to feel beneath his fingers, beneath him. 

“Gorgeous, every perfect inch of you … so gorgeous,” Merlin breathed the words into Arthur’s skin, and kissed his neck, his chest, his stomach. Every kiss was an unspoken promise he would never hurt him. 

The hard line of Arthur’s cock pressed up into the waistband of his boxers, mirroring Merlin’s pulsing hardness. Merlin pressed his palm against its length. 

“Oh god …” Arthur panted as his hips seemed to jerk up into the touch of their own accord. 

“I’ll take that as a cue to take your jeans off?” 

“Fuck, yes. Yours … too … I want to see you.” 

They stripped away the last of their clothes and Arthur pulled Merlin down between his parted thighs. Their cocks brushed together, side-by-side, both of them leaking, twitching, aching. Merlin could barely stop himself rutting into the solid warmth of Arthur’s stomach, the tightening in his balls and the constant friction against his cock like lightning rushing outwards through every muscle in his body. 

Arthur bucked into him as if he could barely feel Merlin’s weight, he dug his fingers in and pulled Merlin close. Merlin could tell, though he’d never seen it before, never yet seen the glorious sight of Arthur Pendragon, debauched and undone, that he was close to coming all over him. 

“Not gonna last …” Arthur breathed. 

“Me neither … do it.” 

Merlin rotated his hips into Arthur’s so that with his weight and the dry friction of their cocks rubbing against hot, bare skin, there was enough stimulation for this first, frantic time. With an unfettered cry Arthur bucked up and Merlin felt the pulse and warm spill of his come but barely had time to ride it with Arthur before his own climax tipped over and he was coming in hard jerking pulses. 

Merlin came down slowly, and even as he felt his cock softening he shuddered again into Arthur’s embrace. He slumped down and let his face fall into the crook of Arthur’s neck. 

The CD played on. It was near the end: Merlin remembered this was the last song. _I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling the puzzles apart. Questions of science, science and progress, could not speak as loud as my heart …_

As the music finished Merlin extracted himself, wiped away the stickiness from between them with the edge of the covers and pulled out his pyjama bottoms from under his pillow. Arthur buried himself under the covers and idly watched Merlin moving around, picking up clothes. It was funny, doing something so ordinary, when everything was so wonderfully, ridiculously extraordinary. 

“You can’t believe it, can you?” Arthur was looking smug, in the most endearing way possible. 

“What?” 

“That you’ve got me in your bed.” His smirk was slow and sultry. 

Merlin’s jaw dropped in mock disbelief. He clambered onto the bed and straddled Arthur’s lap. “Behave or you’ll find yourself back in that spare room before you can find your underpants.” 

Arthur flipped him over and pinned him down despite being tangled in the duvet. “You’d miss me. You’d be lying here all night pining after me.” 

“You’re right. I would.” Merlin reached up and kissed his nose. “Stay in here tonight.” 

Arthur pulled back. “Are you sure? What will your mum say?” 

Merlin sat back up, clasped Arthur’s hand. “I think she’ll be okay. If she isn’t she’ll say so, but she won’t go mad or anything.” 

“She’s not your typical parent, is she?” 

“You don’t know the half of it.” Merlin got up, crossed the room and took out a carrier bag from his wardrobe. As he emptied the contents out onto the bed Merlin said, “Look what she bought me, at half term, before she realised you were going on holiday.” 

Scattered on the bed were a selection of condoms, lube and a book titled, ‘The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex’. 

Arthur laughed low and hard and the sound resonated joyfully right into Merlin’s soul. 

“I love your mum,” he said. 

“Me too.” 

 

~*~ 

 

Epilogue 

 

“There, you look gorgeous,” Arthur said fondly, straightening Merlin’s tie. 

“I hate wearing suits,” he complained, scrunching his face up, disgruntled. 

“It’s for one afternoon. Come on, we’ll be late, Dr. Emrys.” Arthur turned and added, “I have fantasies about being thoroughly examined by a doctor.” 

“Doctor of mathematics, not medicine. Want do you want me to do, model the random distribution of hair on your arse?” 

“If you do it with your tongue.” 

“Stop. Now. Unless we’ve got time for a quickie?” 

“No, we really need to go. Everyone will be waiting.” 

Merlin followed Arthur out to the car, admiring the solidity of him. Not just the physical man, the whole person. It was a far cry from six years ago when he'd spent the last year at school living with Merlin and his mum. Not that Merlin had expected it to be easy, peeling away all those layers like an onion, each time with fresh tears. But they’d got there, little by little. 

Then, when they both got places at universities in London and Merlin had been more homesick than he could have ever imagined, Arthur had been kind and loving and held on to him through it all. Merlin had needed him so much that first year and Arthur had never waivered in his devotion, solid and strong, always. 

Last year, at Uther’s funeral, Arthur had carried himself with dignity, like he always did, and gave his father a eulogy Merlin felt Uther hadn’t deserved, but they had decided long before to agree to disagree on their feelings about that. Afterwards, Arthur had mourned like anyone who had loved someone, and Merlin realised once again he was gifted with being loved by a person who had more to give than he knew what to do with. Merlin could never forgive Uther for not realising it. 

So here they were now: still together, and Merlin graduating a year early with his doctorate. 

“Don’t be nervous, I’ll check your shoelaces before you take your seat. Don’t want you tripping over when you walk across the stage.” 

“Thanks, but I don’t know that’s going to help.” 

Arthur reached across and squeezed his knee. “I’m so proud of you, Merlin. Who’d have thought that gawky little idiot that stole my heart would grow up into such a fine man.” 

“There’s a compliment in there somewhere …” 

Arthur turned to him and said with unadulterated affection, “Yes, there is.” 

 

The End


End file.
